The  Music  Lover's  Library 


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BOOKS   BY   HENRY  EDWARD    KREHBIEL 
PuBUSHED  BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


How    to    Listen   to   Music.     Illustrated. 

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Music    and    Manners    in     the     Classical 

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The  Pianoforte  and  Its  Music.  Illustrated. 

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The  Music  Lover'' s  Library 


The    Pianoforte 
and  Its  Music 

By 

Henry  Edward  Krehbiel 

Author  of  "How  to  Listen  to  Music,"  '^ Music  and  Manners 

in  the  Classical  Period,"    "Studies  in  the  IVagner- 

ian  Drama,"    "Chapters  of  Opera,"     "A 

Book  of  Operas,''  "The  Thilharmofiic 

Society  of  New  York,"  etc.,  etc. 


With  Portraits  and  Illustrations 


Charles   Scribner's   Sons 
New  York  :  :  :  :  :  1911 


Copyright,  igio,  by  H.  E.  Krehhtel 
Copyright,  ign,  bj>  Charles  Scribner's  Sons 

Published  January,  1911 


Music 
Library 

NIL 


TO 

IGNAZ   JAN    PADEREWSKI 


"Blue  Hill,  CMaine, 

Summer  of  igio. 


Contents 

PART  I 

THE    INSTRUMENT 

PAGE 

I.     Principles  and  Primitive  Prototypes    .     .      '-f 

II.  Mediaeval  Precursors 17 

III.  The  Pianoforte  of  To-Day 29 

PART  II 

THE  COMPOSERS 

IV.  The  Earliest  Clavier  Music 53 

The  English  Virginalists  ^ 63^ 

French  and  Italian  Clavecinists       ...     87 

The  German  School — Bach  and  Handel  .  100 

Classicism  and  the  Sonata 122 

Beethoven — an  Intermezzo 146 

The  Romantic  School 180 

XI.     National  Schools 229 

PART  111 

THE    PLAYERS 

XII.     Virtuosi  and  Their  Development    .     .     .261 


Illustrations 


A  Pianoforte  by  Cristofori Frontispiece 

In  the  Crosby   Brown  Collection,  Metropolitan  Museum  of 
Art,  New  Yorlt. 

PAGE 

Evolution  of  tlie  Musical  Bow   ....  Facing  12 

Group  of  Clavichord  Keys 18 

A  Harpischord  Jack 18 

Hammer-action  of  a  Grand  Pianoforte     ...  45 

Jean  Philippe  Rameau Facing  88 


Domenico  Scarlatti 


Franz  Liszt  .     .     .     .     . 

After  a  drawing  by  S.  Mittag. 

Francois  Fre'deric  Chopin 
Ignaz  Jan  Paderewski 
Carl  Tausig       .     .    ,     » 


98 
144 
200 
242 
262 


Part  I 
The  Instrument 


I 

Principles  and  Primitive  Prototypes 

IN  this  book  I  have  undertaken  a  study  of  the 
origin  and  development  of  the  pianoforte,  the 
music  composed  for  it,  and  the  performers  who  have 
brought  that  music  home  to  the  understanding  and 
enjoyment  of  the  people  who  have  lived  since  the 
instrument  acquired  the  predominant  influence 
which  it  occupies  in  modern  culture.  There  is  that 
in  the  title  of  the  series  of  works  to  which  this  little 
book  belongs  which  justifies  a  trust  in  the  gracious- 
ness,  gentleness,  and  serious-mindedness  of  those 
who  shall,  haply,  read  it;  and  therefore  I  begin  with 
a  warning  that  an  earnest  purpose  lies  at  the  bottom 
of  my  undertaking:  I  am  more  desirous  to  instruct 
than  to  entertain,  though  I  would  not  assert  that  in 
this  instance  instruction  and  entertainment  need  be 
divorced.  Nevertheless,  it  was  this  desire  that  de- 
termined the  method  which  I  shall  follow  in  the  dis- 
cussion and  which  I  shall  believe  to  be  successful  in 
the  degree  that  it  excites  the  imagination  and  quick- 
ens the  perceptions  of  my  readers  without  burden- 
ing the  faculty  which  historical  study,  as  commonly 
conducted,  taxes  most  severely — that  is  to  say,  the 

3 


The  Instrument 


faculty  of  memory.  I  shall  care  little  for  dates  and 
much  for  principles.  Names  shall  not  affright  me, 
and  I  shall  not  attempt  to 

distinguish  and  divide 
A  hair  'twixt  south  and  south-west  side 

when  it  comes  to  enumerating  or  describing  the  in- 
struments which  some  centuries  ago  filled  the  place 
in  musical  practice  now  occupied  by  that  instru- 
ment universal — the  pianoforte.  Yet  I  shall  strive 
to  point  out  why  and  how  the  structural  principles 
of  those  instruments  influenced  the  music  which 
they  were  called  upon  to  utter,  and  pointed  the  way 
to  the  art  of  to-day.  It  is  one  of  the  cheering  and 
amiable  features  of  historical  study  pursued  in  this 
manner  that  it  refuses  to  be  kept  in  the  dusty  road 
tramped  by  date-mongers  and  takes  into  account  the 
utterances  of  poets,  the  testimony  of  ancient  carv- 
ings and  drawings,  as  well  as  the  records  of  prosy 
chroniclers.  Many  are  the  by-paths  which  lead 
into  the  avenue  of  scientific  fact — varied  and  lovely 
are  the  vistas  which  they  open. 

We  are  concerned  in  this  portion  of  our  study 
with  the  story  which  shall  tell  us  how  the  piano- 
forte came  into  existence.  As  we  know  it,  this  in- 
strument is  practically  a  product  of  the  nineteenth 
century;  yet  poetical  traditions  which  have  come 
down  to  us  from  the  earliest  civilizations  are  at  one 
with  the  conclusions  of  scientific  research  in  telling 

4 


Prmciples  and  Primitive  Prototypes 

us  what  was  the  common  origin  of  the  instruments 
to  which  the  pianoforte  has  borne  relationship  since 
music  began.  Let  me,  before  showing  this,  classify 
these  instruments.  They  are  known  technically  as 
"  stringed ^ijistruments,  because  their  tones  are  gen- 
erated by  the  vibrations  of  tense  strings,  or  chords. 
Now: 

(a)  Instruments  of  the  viol  family  yield  tones  when 
their  strings  are  rubbed; 

(b)  Those   of  the   harp  family   when   they   are 
twanged,  plucked,  or  picked; 

(c)  Those  of  the  dulcimer_  family  when  they   -^^ 
struck.  ^^^~ 

All  these  instruments  are  interrelated,    -^^  ^'^^ 

one  time  or  another  in  its  long  history  tht  ^plores 

ment  which  we  call  the  piano  for  short  (bi  "^irioii- 

ought  always  to  be  called  the  pianofort 

sons  which  shall  appear  presently)  h?    *^' 

the  fundamental  principle  of  each.     ""       ^,  ,, 

.    jes  the  sod  s 
ferences,  however,  which  determir  ° 

sions.     Thus,  some  stringed  instr  ■ 

more  tones   than  they   have  , 

•'  own  he  came, 

mediumship    of   a    finger-bo  ^  Olympian  mount, 

player  to  shorten  the  vibr  Jer  bore  the  bow 

string  by  pressure  upon  it  -le  arrows  rang 

ping,"  as  it  is  called  by     ^^S^y  S^^ 
r  ,  , ,  ,   •  me  as  comes  the  nieht, 

fewer  tones  than  strmgF  .•      ,    ,       ^    ^u 
°  .ips  aloof,  sent  forth 

or  even  trebled,  m  un    heard  the  clang 
sonority;  some  are  pjow. 

7 


The  Instrument 


bare  fingers,  some  with  a  bit  of  metal,  ivory,  or 
wood,  anciently  called  a  plectrum.  The  feature 
which  differentiates  the  pianoforte  from  its  com- 
panions is  the  keyboard.  This  is  a  mechanical 
contrivance  by  which  the  blow  against  the  strings 
is  not  only  delivered,  but  by  means  of  which  it  can 
also  be  regulated  so  as  to  produce  gradations  of 
power  and  a  considerable  range  of  expression.  It 
is  to  the  first  of  these  capacities  that  the  instrument 
owes  its  name — the  "pianoforte"  {piano  e  forte 
as  it  was  first  called)  is  the  "soft  and  loud."  This 
ofvery  rudimentary  talk,  but  its  significance  will 
theyar  later. 

to  the'ow,  I  were  asked  to  give  a  brief  but  com- 
amiabl'ive  definition  of  the  pianoforte,  whose  or- 
manneowth,  and  present  status  are  to  occupy 
tramped"* tion  in  the  first  large  subdivision  of  this 
utteranceshould  say  that  it  is  an  instrument  of 
ings  and  dnnes  of  which  are  generated  by  strings 
chroniclers,  ivi  by  blows  delivered  by  hammers 
into  the  avenue  cy.yboard,  the  mechanism  of  which 
are  the  vistas  whici.the  force  of  the  blow  and  the 
We  are  concerneathe  resultant  tone  are  meas- 
with  the  story  which  d  of  the  player.  Also  that  it 
forte  came  into  existencesonance-box,  to  augment 
strument  is  practically  a. 

century;  yet  poetical  tra  an  instrument  may  be 
down  to  us  from  the  earlie.of  antiquity,  the  some- 
with  the  conclusions  of  scieidiaeval  scholastics,  and 


Principles  and  Primitive  Prototypes 

the  rude  inventions  of  the  savages  who  live  to-day 
to  tell  us  something  about  things  which  antedate  the 
civilization  of  which  our  time  has  been  so  boastful. 
Mediaeval  records  are  equidistant  between  the  im- 
aginative and  scientific  periods.  Now,  imagination 
not  only 

bodies  forth 
The  forms  of  things  unknown, 

but  also  preserves  a  record  of  things  forgotten.  I 
am,  therefore,  pleased  first  to  invite  its  aid. 

The  god  of  music  of  the  ancient  Greeks  was  also 
their  archer-god.  Recall  the  description  of  Apol- 
lo's answer  to  the  supplication  of  Chryses  in  the 
first  book  of  the  "  Iliad."  The  aged  priest  implores 
the  god  to  avenge  the  wrong  done  by  Agamemnon. 

Hear  me,  thou  bearer  of  the  silver  bow, 

he  prays;  and  thus  the  poet  describes  the  god's 
answer  to  the  appeal: 

Phoebus  Apollo  hearkened.    Down  he  came, 
Down  from  the  summit  of  the  Olympian  mount, 
Wrathful  in  heart;  his  shoulder  bore  the  bow 
And  hollow  quiver;  there  the  arrows  rang 
Upon  the  shoulders  of  the  angry  god 
As  on  he  moved.     He  came  as  comes  the  night, 
And,  seated  from  the  ships  aloof,  sent  forth 
An  arrow;  terrible  was  heard  the  clang 
Of  that  resplendent  bow. 

7 


The  Instrument 


It  was  not  a  mere  chance  that  the  poet  equipped 
the  god  of  music  with  a  bow,  nor  yet  a  striving  after 
picturesque  effect.  A  Homer  would  not  have  jug- 
gled so  with  words  and  images.  Apollo  bore  the 
bow  on  this  occasion  because  it  fell  to  him  to  mete 
out  retribution;  but  he  was  the  god  of  music  be- 
cause he  bore  the  bow.  I  cannot  recall  where,  but 
I  have  seen  somewhere  another  of  these  beautiful 
old  Greek  legends  which  presents  Apollo  listen- 
ing entranced  to  the  musical  twang  of  his  bow- 
string, which  gave  out  sweet  sounds  even  while 
it  sped  the  arrow  on  its  errand  of  death.  Also 
there  comes  to  mind  the  passage  in  the  "Odyssey" 
which  describes  Ulysses's  trial  of  his  own  bow  after 
the  suitors  of  Penelope  had  put  it  by  in  despair — 
when  he  drew  the  arrow  to  its  head  and  the  string 
rang  shrill  and  sweet  as  the  note  of  a  swallow  as  he 
let  it  go.  A  version  of  an  old  legend  given  by  Cen- 
sorinus  says  that  the  use  of  the  tense  string  of  his 
bow  for  musical  purposes  was  suggested  to  Apollo 
by  the  twang  made  by  the  bowstring  of  his  huntress 
sister  Diana. 

Tales  like  these  preserve  a  record  which  ante- 
dates history  as  commonly  understood.  The  bow 
was  the  first  stringed  instrument  of  music — that  is 
wh^tt  these  tales  tell  us;  and  note  how  the  old  lesson 
is  illustrated  in  the  life  of  to-day:  There  lives  no 
boy  brought  up  where  the  bow  is  a  plaything  who 
has  not  made  Apollo's  discovery  for  himself.     For 

8 


Principles  and  Primitive  Prototypes 

all  such  boys  it  is  a  common  amusement  to  pluck  at 
the  bowstring  and  catch  the  faint  musical  tone 
which  results  by  putting  the  bow  to  the  ear  or  be- 
twe'e'iTtTie  teeth r — The  savage  probably  did  the 
same  thing  thousands  of  years  ago;  he  certainly 
does  it  now  pretty  much  all  the  world  over.  In  the 
Smithsonian  Institution  at  Washington  there  is  a 
musical  instrument  which  used  to  be  described  in 
the  catalogue  as  a  guitar  of  the  Yaquima  Indians 
of  Sonora,  Mexico.  It  is  nothing  else  than  a  bow 
provided  with  a  tuning  peg.  While  picking  the 
string  with  his  right  hand  the  savage  varied  the 
pitch  of  the  tone  by  slipping  the  left  along  the 
string.  Travellers  have  found  half  a  dozen  tribes 
in  Africa  whose  principal  instrument  of  music  differs 
but  in  little  from  the  bow.  Some  savages,  indeed, 
use  the  same  bow  in  their  music-making  that  they 
do  in  war  and  the  chase.  The  n-kungu  of  the  An- 
gola negroes  is  a  springy  piece  of  wood  bent  by  a 
string  of  twisted  fibre.  Near  one  end  another  bit 
of  fibre  is  lashed  around  the  bow,  drawing  the  string 
tighter,  and  a  hollow  gourd  is  fastened  to  the  wood 
to  augment  the  sound.  Here  we  have  the  primi- 
tive resonator,  or  sound-box.  The  performer  holds 
his  rude  instrument  upright  in  his  left  arm,  the 
gourd  resting  on  his  left  hip,  or  his  stomach,  and 
while  he  twangs  the  string  with  a  splint  of  wood  he 
slips  the  fingers  of  his  left  hand  along  it  to  raise  and 
lower  the  tone.     In  the  Crosby  Brown  collection  of 

9 


The  Instrument 


musical  instruments,  housed  at  the  Metropolitan 
Museum  of  Art  in  New  York,  there  is  an  instru- 
ment from  Brazil  which  has  its  counterpart  in  two 
specimens  from  the  Gaboon  River,  Africa,  pre- 
served in  the  National  Museum  at  Washington.  It 
is  made  from  the  midrib  of  a  large  palm  leaf.  In 
the  Washington  specimens  strips  of  the  outer  skin 
of  the  midrib  are  cut  loose  and  raised  up  on  a  ver- 
tical bridge,  the  ends  being  left  attached.  Around 
the  ends  and  the  midrib  are  little  bands  of  plaited 
fibre  by  which  the  vibrating  length  of  the  strings 
can  be  adjusted.  As  in  the  Angola  instrument,  a 
gourd  forms  the  resonator.  The  hunting-bow  has 
here  grown  into  an  instrument  capable  of  giving 
out  eight  tones.  The  instrument  was  introduced  in 
America  by  slaves  who  came  from  Africa;  this,  at 
least,  is  the  contention  of  Professor  Mason,  of  the 
National  Museum. 

The  theory  which  finds  the  origin  of  all  musical 
instruments  of  the  stringed  tribe  in  the  bow  of  the 
savage  has  a  triple  commendation:  the  Hellenic 
myths  suggest  it;  reason  approves  it;  the  practice 
of  modern  savages  confirms  it.  Suppose  primitive 
man  to  conceive  the  desire  to  add  to  the  number 
of  tones  possible  to  his  improvised  musical  instru- 
ments so  as  to  enjoy  that  sequence  or  combination 
which,  when  pleasingly  ordered,  we  call  melody  or 
harmony — how  would  he  go  about  it?  Most  natu- 
rally by  adding  strings  to  his  bow ;  and  a  bow  with 

10 


Principles  and  Primitive  Prototypes 

more  than  one  string  is  already  a  rudimentary  harp. 
As  Homer  came  to  our  support  in  the  first  instance, 
so  the  ancient  sculptor  helps  us  now.  The  oldest 
rock  pictures  which  archaeologists  have  found  in 
Egypt  show  us  harps  that  retain  enough  of  the  bow 
form  plainly  to  suggest  their  origin.  The  body  of 
the  instrument  is  still  shaped  like  a  bow;  the  single 
string  has  received  three  fellows;  the  gourd  of  the 
n-kungu  has  developed  into  a  sound-box  of  wood. 
The  instrument  was  carried  on  the  left  shoulder 
and  its  strings  were  plucked  with  the  fingers.  The 
mural  paintings  and  sculptures  of  Egypt  discover 
many  varieties  of  harps,  some  showing  a  marvellous 
degree  of  perfection,  but  even  the  largest  and  finest 
lacks  the  pole  which  completes  the  triangular  form 
of  the  modern  harp  and  is  essential  to  its  strength 
and  rigidity. 

There  is  no  relic  of  the  bow  in  the  shapes  of  the 
harps  and  lyres  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  but, 
instead,  suggestions  of  the  tortoise-shell  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  familiar  legend  told  by  Apollodorus, 
gave  Mercury  the  idea  exemplified  in  the  classic 
lyre.  According  to  this  story,  the  god  one  day  ac- 
cidentally kicked  a  tortoise-shell  stretched  in  the 
interior  of  which  there  remained  some  cartilages 
after  the  flesh  had  been  dried  out  by  the  sun.  These 
chords  gave  forth  a  sound,  and  Mercury  at  once 
conceived  the  idea  of  the  lyre,  made  the  instrument 
in  the  shape  of  a  tortoise-shell  and  strung  it  with  the 


The  Instrument 


dried  sinews  of  animals.  This  legend  originates  the 
two  principles  of  a  vibrating  string  and  a  resonator 
simultaneously,  and  is  obviously  of  a  later  date  than 
the  myth  which  made  Apollo 

The  lord  of  the  unerring  bow, 

The  god  of  Hfe,  and  poetry,  and  light. 

But  we  ought  now  to  look  away  from  all  the 
ancient  instruments  whose  strings  were  twanged 
or  plucked,  whether  with  the  unarmed  fingers  or 
with  plectra  of  various  kinds,  and  seek  for  the 
earliest  form  of  an  instrument  embodying  the  prin- 
ciple of  a  struck  string.  The  oldest  illustrations  of 
,  this  manner  of  producing  musical  sounds  that  have 
''''been  discovered  are  Assyrian.  Among  the  bas- 
relief  sculptures  taken  from  the  tumuli  which  mark 
the  places  where  Nineveh,  Nimroud,  Khorsabad, 
and  Kuijundschik  once  stood  (they  are  now  safely 
housed  in  the  British  Museum,  to  the  great  glory 
of  the  English  people)  is  one  representing  a  portion 
of  a  triumphal  procession  in  honor  of  Saos-du-Khin, 
an  Assyrian  king  whose  reign  began  667  years  before 
Christ.  In  this  group  there  is  what  I  have  vent- 
ured to  look  upon  as  an  Assyrian  dulcimer  player. 
The  instrument,  apparently  a  sound-box  with 
strings  stretched  across  the  top  (though  they  are 
depicted  as  bending  over  each  other  in  the  air  in 
agreement  with  ancient  notions  of  art,  which  made 
perspective  wait  upon  delineation  of  actualities), 


EVOLUTION   OF   THE   MUSICAL   BOW. 


Principles  and  Primitive  Prototypes 

was  suspended  in  front  of  the  player  by  a  band  from 
the  neck,  since  both  hands  are  occupied  in  playing 
upon  it — the  right  hand  striking  the  strings  with  an 
instrument  apparently  about  a  foot  long,  the  left 
seemingly  checking  the  vibrations  of  the  strings. 

If  this  instrument  was  really  a  dulcimer,  it  may 
stand  as  the  true  prototype  among  the  civilized  an- 
cients of  the  modern  pianoforte.  Varied  in  shape, 
with  many  names,  it  has  lived  till  to-day.  It  is  still 
popular  in  the  Orient.  It  is  the  Persian  santir;  it 
was  the  Greek  psalterion,  and  its  use  was  general 
throughout  Europe  as  early  as  the  sixth  century. 
The  Italians  called  it  the  dolcimelo,  compounding 
the  word  out  of  the  Latin  dulce  and  the  Greek 
melos.  The  ruder  Germans,  taking  a  suggestion, 
probably,  from  the  motion  of  the  players'  hands, 
which  suggested  that  of  the  butchers'  in  the  prepa- 
ration of  their  favorite  viand,  called  it  Hackbrett — 
that  is,  chopping  board.  By  this  time  the  instru- 
ment had  attained  its  present  form,  a  box  of  thin 
boards  pierced  on  the  top  with  sound  holes,  having 
wire  strings  stretched  over  bridges,  played  upon 
with  two  hammers  with  slender  handles  and  cork 
heads.  Once  it  was  played  upon  with  two  sticks 
slightly  bent  at  one  end,  making  an  elongated  head, 
one  side  of  which  was  covered  with  cloth.  By 
striking  the  wires  with  the  cloth-covered  surface  soft 
effects  were  obtained — a  noteworthy  device  in  this 
history,  for  it  suggested  the  pianoforte  to  the  mind 

13 


The  Instrument 


of  one  of  its  inventors.  The  capabilities  of  the 
dulcimer  may  be  studied  to-day  in  the  music  of 
the  ubiquitous  gypsy  band. 

We  have  now  seen  something  of  the  origin  and 
growth  of  two  of  the  vi»tal  principles  of  the  modern 
pianoforte — the  principle  of  a  vibrating  string  as  a 
medium  of  tone  generation  and  of  a  blow  against 
the  string  as  a  means  of  tone  production.  For  a 
third  distinguishing  principle,  that  by  which  the 
two  media  are  brought  into  mutual  service,  the 
journey  of  discovery  must  again  be  into  the  classic 
past.  The  keyboard  was  borrowed  from  instru- 
ments of  the  organ  kind,  and  its  antiquity  cannot 
clearly  be  determined.  Organs  were  the  possession 
of  both  Greeks  and  Hebrews  before  the  Christian 
era,  and  their  existence  in  anything  beyond  the  sim- 
plest forms,  as  exemplified  in  the  syrinx,  presup- 
poses some  contrivance  for  admitting  and  exclud- 
ing wind  from  the  pipes  at  the  will  of  the  player. 
At  first,  and  even  after  the  instrument  got  into 
literature,  this  contrivance  may  have  been  a  series 
of  rods  which  could  be  drawn  forth  and  pushed 
back  under  the  mouths  of  the  pipes,  but  in  the 
sixth  century  a.d.  Cassiodorus,  in  a  commentary 
on  Psalm  cl.,  wrote  a  description  of  a  pneumatic 
organ  which  leaves  no  doubt  that  the  commentator 
was  familiar  with  something  like  our  key-action. 
He  mentions  the  presence  in  the  interior  of  the  in- 
strument of  "movements  of  wood  which  are  pressed 

14 


Principles  and  Primitive  Prototypes 

down  by  the  fingers  of  the  player"  in  order  to  "ex- 
press agreeable  melodies."  We  do  not  know  when 
the  keyboard  was  invented,  but  certain  it  seems 
that  the  organ  keyboard  was  too  cumbersome  a  con- 
trivance to  be  applied  to  a  stringed  instrument  for 
several  centuries  after  the  beginning  of  the  Christian 
era.  This  application,  in  the  form  of  interest  to  us, 
took  place  about  the  eleventh  century,  and  the  in- 
strument to  which  keys  were  then  applied  was  a 
scientific  rather  than  a  musical  instrument.  It  was 
the  monochord,  which  had  been  used  in  the  mathe- 
matical determination  of  the  relation  of  tones  ever 
since  the  time  of  Pythagoras — that  is,  ever  since  the 
sixth  century  before  Christ.  As  its  name  indicates, 
the  monochord  had  but  a  single  string.  This  was 
stretched  over  two  bridges,  on  a  sound-box.  By 
stopping  this  string  in  the  middle  the  octave  of  its 
fundamental  tone  was  produced;  two-thirds  gave 
the  fifth,  three-fourths  the  fourth,  and  so  on,  the 
harmonic  interval  being  perfect  in  proportion  to 
the  simplicity  of  the  numerical  ratio.  It  was  a  sim- 
ple matter  to  add  strings  to  the  monochord  to  facili- 
tate its  manipulation  in  the  comparison  of  intervals, 
and  two  theoretical  writers  in  the  second  century 
A.D.,  Aristides  Quintilian  and  Claudius  Ptolemy, 
refer  to  an  instrument  having  four  strings  tuned  in 
unison  which  was  used  in  the  study  of  tonal  ratios. 
It  was  once  customary  to  attribute  nearly  all  in- 
ventions in  music  to  Guido  d'Arezzo,  the  monk  to 

IS 


The  Instrument 


whom  we  are  indebted  for  our  sol-fa  syllables.  He 
is  credited,  too,  with  having  applied  keys  to  the 
monochord  which,  on  being  pressed  down,  lifted  a 
bridge  against  the  string  from  below,  simultaneously 
making  it  sound  and  dividing  off  the  portion  whose 
tone  it  was  desired  to  hear.  Whether  or  not  he  made 
this  discovery  is  not  proved,  but  that  he  was  fa- 
miliar with  a  keyed  instrument  is  plain,  from  the 
fact  that  he  left  a  writing  for  his  pupils,  counselling 
them  to  practise  their  hands  in  the  use  of  the 
monochord. 


i6 


II 

Mediaeval  Precursors 

WE  have  now  before  us  the  primary  form  of 
the  instrument  which,  despite  its  simplicity, 
contested  longest  for  supremacy  with  the  piano- 
forte after  the  latter  had  entered  the  arena.  The 
mechanism  of  the  monochord  of  the  eleventh  cen- 
tury was  to  all  intents  and  purposes  the  mechanism 
of  the  clavichord  {clavis,  key;  chorda,  a  string), 
which  might  still  have  been  seen  occasionally  in  the 
music-loving  houses  of  Germany  in  the  middle  of 
the  nineteenth  century. 

The  key  was  a  simple  lever,  one  end  of  which 
received  the  pressure  of  the  finger,  while  the  other, 
extending  under  the  strings  of  the  instrument,  was 
armed  with  a  bit  of  metal  placed  upright  and  at 
right  angles  with  the  string.  When  the  key  was 
pressed  down  the  blow  dealt  by  this  bit  of  metal, 
called  a  "tangent,"  set  the  string  to  vibrating,  and 
at  the  same  time  measured  off  the  segment  of  the 
string  which  had  to  vibrate  to  produce  the  desired 
tone.  The  tangent  also  acted  as  a  bridge,  and  had 
to  be  held  against  the  string  so  long  as  the  tone  was 
to  continue.     On  its  release  the  tone  was  imme- 

17 


The  In      ument 


diately  muffled,  or  damped,  by  strips  of  cloth  which 
were  intertwined  with  the  wires  at  one  end. 

Down  to  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  though 
the  strings  were  multiphed,  the  name  monochord 
was  still  used,  and,  though  the  range  of  the  instru- 


A  Group  of  Clavichord  Keys 
(From  an  instrument  owned  by  the  author) 


A  Harpsichord  Jack 


ment  had  reached  twenty-four  notes,  the  strings 
were  still  tuned  in  unison.  Gradually,  however, 
the  strings  for  the  acuter  tones  were  shortened  by 
a  bridge  placed  diagonally  across  the  sound-board, 
this  contrivance  being  borrowed,  it  is  said,  from 
another  keyed  instrument,  called  the  clavicymbal, 

i8 


Mediaeval   Precursors 


which  was,  in  effect,  a  triangular  system  of  strings 
to  which  a  mechanical  device  had  been  applied 
which  plucked  or  snapped  the  strings,  somewhat 
in  imitation  of  a  harp  player. 

It  is  to  instruments  of  this  class  that  I  now  address 
myself,  for  it  was  for  them  that  the  earliest  music 
was  written  which  has  survived  in  the  repertory  of 
the  pianist,  and  it  was  upon  them  that  the  predeces- 
sors of  the  great  virtuosi  about  whom  I  shall  speak 
played.  But  it  would  be  idle  to  attempt  to  explain 
all  the  differences  between  them.  They  were  a 
numerous  tribe  and  the  members  bore  numerous 
names,  of  which  those  that  have  endured  longest  in 
the  literature  of  music,  and  which,  indeed,  were 
spoken  by  our  grandparents  as  glibly  as  we  say 
piano  now,  were  spinet  and  harpsichord.  We  shall 
be  spared  a  lot  of  curious  and  vain  brain-cudgelling 
if  we  look  upon  these  names,  as  also  clavicytherium, 
clavicembalo,  gravicembalo,  epinette,  and  virginal, 
as  no  more  than  designations  in  vogue  at  different 
times  or  in  different  countries,  or  at  the  most  as 
names  standing  for  variations  in  shape  or  structure 
of  the  instrument  which  filled  the  place  before  the 
nineteenth  century  that  the  pianoforte  does  now. 

In  all  the  instruments  of  this  class  the  strings 
were  picked  with  tiny  points  of  quills  (generally, 
though  the  material  varied)  held  in  bits  of  wood 
called  "jacks,"  which  moved  freely  in  slots  piercing 
the  sound-board,  and  rested  upon  one  end  of  the 

19 


The  Instrument 


key  levers.  The  quill  was  a  tiny  thing,  not  more 
than  a  third  of  an  inch  in  length,  thrus^  through  a 
/.aTow  tongue  which  moved  on  a  pivo.  through  a 
'  (,  'n  the  upper  part  of  the  jack.  Whe  i  at  rest  the 
i  '  ^t  lay  a  trifle  below  the  string  and  at  a 

slightly  acute  angle  with  it.     The  key  pressed  down, 
\ .  the  jack  sprang  upward,  and  the  quill  in  passing 
rAXl  twanged  the  string.     When  the  key  was  released  the 
,     jack  dropped  back  to  its  place  and  the  quill  slipped 
under  the  string,  ready  for  a  repetition  of  the  move- 
ment.     '  )  enable  it  to  do  this  was  the  mission  of 
I      the  little  tongue  in  which  it  was  set.     This  was 
held  in  place  flush  with  the  front  face  of  the  jack 
by  a  delicate  spring  of  wire  or  hog's  bristle.     The 
-  tongue  could  move  backward,  but  not  forward,  but, 
the  quill  being  pointed  a  little  upward,  when  it  fell 
back  upon  the  string  the  spring  gave  way,  the  tongue 
moved  back  a  bit,  and  the  quill  regained  its  position 
below  the  string.     If  you  will  read  Shakespeare's 
128th  sonnet  it  will  help  you  to  keep  in  mind  the 
action  of  these  jacks,  though  at  times  the  poet's 
description  seems  to  confound  them  with  the  keys. 
Two  hundred  years  ago  the  perfection  of  instru- 
ments of  the  clavier  class — that  is,  instruments  with 
strings  played  upon  by  manipulation  of  keys — was 
thought  to  have  been  reached.     This,  at  least,  is  the 
recorded  judgment  of  writers  of  that  period.    From 
a  mechanical  point  of  view,  indeed,  some  of  these 
instruments  were  marvels;    but  as  music  became 


Mediaeval   Precursors 


less  and  less  mere  pretty  play  of  sounds,  and  gave 
voice  more  and  more  to  the  feelings  of  composer 
and  player,  the  deficiencies  of  virginal,  spinet,  and 
harpsichord  became  manifest.  Even  the  most 
elaborate  and  perfect  of  the  quilled  instruments, 
the  harpsichord,  was  a  soulless  thing.  It  was  im- 
possible to  vary  the  quantity  and  quality  of  its  tone 
sufficiently  to  make  it  an  expressive  instrument,  and 
it  is  very  significant  to  this  study  in  all  its  aspects 
that  the  greatest  musicians  of  two  centuries  ago, 
while  they  were  obliged  to  compose  for  the  harpsi- 
chord and  give  it  their  preference  in  the  concert- 
room,  nevertheless,  as  we  know  from  Bach's  ex- 
ample (but  of  that  more  anon),  used  the  crude  and 
simpler  clavichord  as  the  medium  of  their  private 
communings  with  the  muse. 

Imperfect  and  weak  as  it  was,  the  clavichord  had 
yet  the  capacity  in  some  degree  to  augment  and 
diminish  the  tone  at  the  will  of  the  player.  The 
tone  of  the  other  instruments  was  not  ineptly  de- 
scribed as  ''a  scratch  with  a  note  at  the  end  of  it." 
Efforts  unceasing  were  made  to  increase  and  give 
variety  to  the  tone,  but  in  vain.  The  defect  was 
fundamental.  The  earliest  attempts  at  improve- 
ment seem  to  have  been  directed  to  the  jacks.  The 
quill-points  had  an  unfortunate  habit  of  wearing 
out  rapidly,  and  when  a  player  sat  down  to  his  in- 
strument in  a  fine  frenzy  of  inspiration  he  sometimes 
had  to  stop  and  put  in  new  quills  as  well  as  tune 


The  Instrument 


it.  So  substitutes  for  goose  and  crow  quills  were 
sought  for,  and  fish  bone,  stiff  cloth,  leather,  metal, 
and  other  materials  were  tried.  The  principle, 
however,  always  remained  the  same,  and  the  defect 
was  never  remedied:  the  jacks  twanged  the  strings, 
and  twanged  them  with  uniform  loudness.  For  the 
sake  of  variety  in  tonal  effects  dampers  of  various 
kinds  were  also  invented  to  check  and  modify  the 
vibration  of  the  strings  after  they  had  been  twanged; 
and,  later,  strings  were  added  which  could  be 
plucked  simultaneously  with  the  original  set  by  an 
additional  row  of  jacks.  These  added  strings  were 
first  tuned  in  unison  with  the  others,  so  that  just 
twice  the  amount  of  tone  resulted  from  their  use, 
but  Ruckers,  of  Antwerp,  the  most  famous  harpsi- 
chord builder  of  his  time,  conceived  the  idea  of 
adding  an  extra  system  of  strings  tuned  in  the  octave 
above,  which  could  be  coupled  to  the  original  sys- 
tem at  will.  The  front  of  the  harpsichord,  which 
was  the  instrument  to  which  most  of  these  improve- 
ments were  attached,  came  in  time  to  look  something 
like  the  console  of  an  organ,  with  its  draw-stops, 
pedals,  and  knee-swells. 

The  builders  also  used  different  kinds  of  metal 
in  their  strings  for  the  sake  of  added  effects,  and 
since  the  quantity  of  tone  could  not  be  varied  by  the 
touch  of  the  player,  the  swell-box  idea  was  bor- 
rowed from  the  organ,  the  entire  sound-board  of 
the  instrument  being  covered  with  a  series  of  shut- 

22 


\ 


Mediaeval   Precursors 


ters  like  the  so-called  Venetian  blinds,  which  could 
be  opened  and  closed  by  the  player  by  pressure  of 
his  foot.  All  these  mechanical  contrivances  were 
little  better  than  makeshifts.  They  did  not  go  to 
the  real  seat  of  the  difficulty,  and  the  inventive  in- 
genuity which  prompted  them  spent  itself  largely  in 
the  creation  of  fantastic  contrivances  whose  worth- 
lessness  is  demonstrated  by  the  fact  that  they  have 
long  since  ceased  to  occupy  the  attention  of  mu- 
sicians. Devices  which  enabled  the  harpsichord 
player  to  imitate  the  voices  of  the  flute,  trumpet, 
bagpipe,  bassoon,  oboe,  and  fife,  the  rattle  of  drums 
and  castanets,  and  even  the  noises  of  a  rain-storm, 
were  admired  by  the  idle  and  curious,  but  to  the 
serious  musician  they  were  mere  mechanical  curi- 
osities only. 

Several  of  the  contrivances,  however,  were  after- 
ward utilized  in  the  pianoforte  for  nobler  ends. 
The  shifting  of  the  keyboard  by  means  of  a  pedal, 
which  is  now  used  in  the  grand  pianoforte  to  divert 
the  blow  of  the  hammer  from  one  or  two  of  the 
unison  strings  {una  corda,  or  the  "soft  pedal,"  as 
it  is  commonly  called),  was  first  applied  to  the  harp- 
sichord for  the  purpose  of  transposition.  Cloth 
dampers  which  were  used  to  modify  the  tone  of  the 
harpsichord  are  interposed  between  the  hammers 
and  the  strings  of  a  square  pianoforte  for  soft 
effects. 

For  many  decades  builders  of  spinets  and  harpsi- 


The  Instrument 


chords  strove — their  successors,  indeed,  are  still 
striving — to  overcome  a  deficiency  which  is  inher- 
ent in  the  nature  of  the  instrument.  As  I  have  said 
elsewhere,^  despite  all  the  skill,  learning,  and  in- 
genuity which  have  been  spent  on  its  perfection 
the  pianoforte  can  be  made  only  feebly  to  approxi- 
mate that  sustained  style  of  musical  utterance  which 
is  the  soul  of  melody  and  finds  its  loftiest  exempli- 
fication in  singing. 

To  give  out  a  melody  perfectly  presupposes  the 
capacity  to  sustain  tones  without  loss  in  power  or 
quality,  to  bind  them  together  at  will  and  sometimes 
to  intensify  their  dynamic,  or  expressive,  force  while 
they  sound.  The  tone  of  the  pianoforte,  like  that 
of  all  its  precursors,  begins  to  die  the  moment  it  is 
created.  The  discoveries  in  the  field  of  acoustics 
which  have  been  made  within  the  last  century,  and 
the  introduction  of  the  hammer-action  in  place  of 
the  jacks,  have  wrought  an  improvement  in  this 
respect,  but  the  difficulty  has  not  been  obviated, 
and  cannot  be  within  the  family  to  which  the  keyed 
\^  instruments  which  we  have  been  considering  belong. 
A  string  plucked  or  struck  in  order  to  produce  a 
sound  is  at  once  beyond  the  control  of  the  player. 
To  keep  it  within  control  the  string  must  be  rubbed. 
It  is  because  of  the  importance  which  this  truth 
assumed  in  the  mind  of  one  of  the  inventors  of  the 
pianoforte,  and  his  experiments  with  an  instru- 
'  See  "How  to  Listen  to  Music,"  p.  158, 
24 


Mediaeval   Precursors 


ment  which  combined  the  dulcimer  and  harp  prin- 
ciples, that  I  shall  tell  the  story  of  the  German 
inventor,  Schroter,  at  greater  length  than  that  of 
the  Frenchman,  Marius,  or  the  Italian,  Cristofori. 
To  each  of  these  I  purpose  to  leave  the  credit  of 
being  an  isolated  inventor,  though  they  worked  at 
different  times  and  brought  forth  their  inventions  in 
the  reverse  order  of  that  in  which  I  have  presented 
their  names. 

One  of  the  devices  invented  for  the  purpose  of 
prolonging  the  tone  of  the  harpsichord  was  incor- 
porated in  an  instrument  called  Geigenwerk,  which 
came  from  Nuremberg,  famous  for  its  inventions 
through  many  centuries.  Properly  speaking,  it  did 
not  belong  to  the  instruments  of  the  clavier  class 
at  all,  for,  though  it  utilized  tense  strings,  a  sound- 
board, and  keys,  its  fundamental  principle  was  bor- 
rowed from  the  viol.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  highly 
developed  and  aristocratic  hurdy-gurdy.  In  it,  by 
means  of  treadles,  wheels  covered  with  leather  and 
coated  with  powdered  resin  were  made  to  revolve, 
and  while  revolving  were  pressed  against  the  strings 
by  manipulation  of  the  keys. 

Christopher  Gottlieb  Schroter  was  a  musician  and 
teacher  in  Dresden  who  became  dissatisfied  with 
the  harpsichord  because  of  the  inability  of  his  pupils 
to  play  on  that  instrument  with  the  taste  and  ex- 
pression which  they  exhibited  when  they  practised 
on  the  clavichord.     He  went  with  a  lamentation  to 

25 


/ 


The  Instrument 


the  Saxon  court  chapelmaster,  who  advised  him  to 
get  one  of  the  Nuremberg  hurdy-gurdy  claviers. 
He  did  so,  and  the  fact  that  it  was  possible  to  sus- 
tain the  tones  in  a  singing  manner  on  the  instru- 
ment pleased  him  much.  But  there  was  still  a  fly 
in  the  ointment.  He  was  unwilling  while  making 
music  to  work  with  both  his  feet  "like  a  linen- 
weaver,"  as  he  expressed  it.  While  in  this  frame 
of  mind  he  heard  the  performance  of  a  famous 
virtuoso  on  the  dulcimer,  and  from  this  perform- 
ance conceived  the  idea  of  constructing  an  instru- 
ment on  which,  if  it  should  not  be  able  to  sustain 
the  tone  like  the  Geigenwerk,  should  at  least  make 
it  possible  to  play  forte  or  piaiio  at  will.  He  went 
to  work  himself  in  a  joiner's  shop  during  the  resting 
hours  of  the  workmen,  and  succeeded  in  construct- 
ing two  models  for  a  hammer  mechanism  to  be  ap- 
plied to  the  harpsichord.  These,  in  February,  1721, 
he  submitted  to  the  King  of  Saxony,  by  whom  the 
invention  was  heartily  approved,  as  well  as  by  the 
court  chapelmaster.  He  had  no  means  to  build  an 
instrument  or  exploit  his  invention,  and  though  the 
king  ordered  one  built  it  was  never  done.  Soon 
thereafter  Schroter  left  Saxony.  Many  years  later, 
finding  that  every  pianoforte  builder  in  Germany 
was  claiming  the  invention  of  the  instrument,  he 
printed  his  story,  giving  all  the  dates  with  the 
greatest  care.  He  could  do  this  because  he  had 
kept  a  diary  all  his  life,  and  he  even  mentioned  the 

26 


Mediaeval   Precursors 


time  of  day  at  which  he  carried  his  models  to  the 
royal  palace. 

The  merit  of  having  suggested  the  German  in- 
vention of  the  pianoforte  was  due  to  a  player  on 
the  dulcimer,  and  since  we  are  concerned  with  a 
study  of  principles  rather  than  mechanics  it  may 
be  profitable  to  consider  what  it  was  in  the  perform- 
ance of  this  man  which  so  powerfully  excited  the 
imagination  of  Schroter.  The  player  was  Panta- 
leon  Hebenstreit,  for  many  years  a  chamber  musi- 
cian at  the  Saxon  court.  Although  an  excellent 
violinist,  his  favorite  instrument  was  the  dulcimer, 
on  which  he  had  acquired  great  proficiency  as  a 
boy.  Not  content  with  the  simple  form  of  the  in- 
strument as  he  found  it,  he  increased  its  size, 
strung  it  with  a  double  system  of  strings — one  of 
brass  and  one  of  gut — and  tuned  it  in  equal  tempera- 
ment, so  that  it  might  be  used  in  all  the  major  and 
minor  keys,  following  in  this  the  way  pointed  out 
by  the  great  Bach.  He  played  it  in  the  primitive 
fashion  with  a  pair  of  hammers,  and  his  music 
excited  the  liveliest  interest  wherever  he  went.  He 
played  before  Louis  XIV.  in  1705,  and  the  Grand 
Monarch  honored  him  by  giving  the  name  "Pan- 
taleon"  to  his  dulcimer.  A  year  later  he  became 
director  of  the  orchestra  and  court  dancing-master 
at  Eisenach,  and  later  still  chamber  musician  in 
Dresden,  at  an  annual  salary  of  2,000  thalers  and 
an  allowance  of  200  thalers  for  strings. 

27 


The  Instrument 


It  is  in  Hebenstreit's  dulcimer  that  we  are  priv- 
ileged to  see  the  first  instrument  with  some  of  the 
expressive  capacity  of  the  modern  pianoforte. 
The  interest  created  by  his  performances  was  not 
due  alone  to  the  effects  of  piano  a.nd  forte  which  he 
produced  by  graduating  the  force  of  the  hammer- 
blows  and  utilizing  the  two  kinds  of  strings.  Dis- 
cerning musicians  heard  in  his  playing  for  the  first 
time  an  effect  whose  scientific  study  of  late  years 
has  done  more  to  perfect  the  tone  of  the  instru- 
ment and  to  influence  composers  and  players  than 
anything  else  in  pianoforte  construction.  Kuhnau, 
who  was  Bach's  predecessor  as  choirmaster  of  the 
Church  of  St.  Thomas,  in  Leipsic,  praised  the  great 
beauty  of  the  tone  of  the  pantaleon,  the  bass  notes 
of  which,  he  said,  sounded  like  those  of  the  organ; 
but,  more  significantly,  he  recorded  the  fact  that 
on  sounding  a  note  its  over-tones  could  be  heard 
simultaneously  up  to  the  sixth.  Helmholtz's  deter- 
minations as  to  the  influence  of  partials  on  the  tim- 
bre of  musical  instruments  have  been  of  the  utmost 
importance  in  pianoforte  construction. 


28 


Ill 

The  Pianoforte  of  To-day 

THE  story  of  the  German  invention  of  the  piano- 
forte cannot  make  for  the  glory  of  Schroter 
as  against  the  credit  due  to  Cristofori,  the  earliest 
inventor  of  the  instrument.  It  has  been  told  only 
because  it  illusFrates  so  luminously  the  principles 
which  we  are  trying  to  keep  in  view  in  this  chapter 
of  musical  evolution.  Discoveries  and  inventions 
of  all  kinds  are  growths;  there  was  never  anything 
new  under  the  sun. 

---  The  three  men  to  whom  I  have  left  the  honor  of 
being  independent  inventors  of  the  pianoforte  are 
the  Italian,  Bartolommeo  Cristofori;  the  French- 
man, Marius,  and  the  German,  Christopher  Gottlieb 
Schroter.  It  is  in  the  highest  degree  probable  that 
efforts  had  been  made  in  the  direction  in  which 
these  men  labored  a  long  time  before  they  came 
forward  with  their  inventions.  The  earliest  use  of 
the  word  pianoforte  (or,  literally,  piano  e  forte)  as 
applied  to  an  instrument  of  music  antedates  the 
earliest  of  these  inventions  by  one  hundred  and 
eleven  years,  but  the  reference  is  exceedingly  vague 
and  chiefly  valuable  as  indicative  of  how  early  the 

29 


The  Instrument 


minds  of  inventors  were  occupied  v  ith  means  for 
obtaining  soft  and  loud  effects  from  keyed  instru- 
ments. Cristofori's  invention  takes  precedence  of 
the  others  in  time.  This  has  been  established,  after 
much  controversy,  beyond  further  dispute.  In 
1709  he  exhibited  specimens  of  harpsichords,  with 
hammer-action,  capable  of  producing  piano  and 
forte  effects,  to  Prince  Ferdinando  dei  Medici,  of 
whose  instruments  of  music  he  was  custodian  at 
Florence,  and  two  years  later — that  is,  in  1711 — 
his  invention  was  fully  described  and  the  descrip- 
tion printed,  not  only  in  Italy,  but  also  in  Germany. 
It  embraces  the  essential  features  of  the  piano- 
forte action  as  we  have  it  to-day — a  row  of  hammers, 
controlled  by  keys,  which  struck  the  strings  from 
below.  In  the  description,  written  by  Scipione 
Maffei,  the  instrument  is  designated  as  a  "New 
Invention  of  a  Harpsichord,  with  the  Piano  and 
Forte"  (Nuova  Invenzione  d'un  Gravicembalo  col 
Piano  e  Forte).  In  February,  17 16,  the  Frenchman, 
Marius,  submitted  two  models  for  a  "  Harpsichord 
with  Hammers"  {Clavecin  a  Mallets)  to  the  Aca- 
demie  Royale  des  Sciences;  one  illustrated  a  device 
for  hitting  the  strings  from  above,  the  other  from 
below.  It  was  a  much  cruder  invention  than  Cris- 
tofori's, but  it  contained  the  vital  principle  which 
differentiates  the  pianoforte  from  its  mediaeval  and 
later  precursors.  Marius's  confessed  purpose  in 
devising  the  new  mechanism  was  economy.     He 

30 


The  Pianoforte  of  To-da' 


wanted  to  save  musicians  the  constant  trouble  and 
cost  of  requilling  the  harpsichord  jacks.  Schroter's 
models  also  struck  the  strings  from  above  and  below. 
There  are  only  two  pianofortes  made  by  Cris- 
tofori  known  to  be  in  existence.  The  older,  made 
in  1720,  was  bought  by  Mrs.  John  Crosby  Brown 
in  1895  and  is  now  housed  in  the  Metropolitan 
Museum  of  Art,  in  New  York.^  The  other  is  the 
property  of  the  Commendatore  Allessandro  Kraus 
and  is  preserved  in  his  museum  in  Florence;  it  is 
pictured  in  Mr.  A.  J.  Hipkins's  "History  of  the 
Pianoforte."  ^  The  instrument  bought  by  Mrs. 
Brown  was  long  the  property  of  Signora  Ernesta 
Mocenni  Martelli,  of  Florence,  whose  father  bought 
it  (according  to  family  tradition)  in  iSigor  1820  at 
a  public  sale  of  supposedly  worthless  furniture  in 
the  Grand  Ducal  palace  at  Siena.  A  sentimental 
feeling  on  the  part  of  the  Signora  Martelli  led  to 
its  preservation  by  her  until  her  death.  A  father 
whose  memory  she  revered  had  bought  it,  and  she 
had  learned  to  play  upon  it  as  a  child.  That  it  had 
value  as  an  historical  relic  was  not  suspected  until 
1872,  when  Signor  Cosimo  Conti,  a  scholar  and 
intimate  friend  of  the  Martelli  family,  discovered, 
on  the  board  which  serves  as  a  hammer  beam,  an 
inscription  as  follows:  " BartholomcBtis  di  Chris- 
tophorus  Patavinus,  Inventor,  faciebat,  FlorenticB, 

*  See  Frontispiece. 

*  Novello,  Ewer  &  Co.,  London  and  New  York,  1896 

31 


The  Instrument 


MDCCXX:'  He  communicated  the  fact  to  the 
CavaHere  L.  Puliti,  whose  investigation  finally  and 
definitely  established  priority  of  invention  for  Cris- 
tofori.  Puliti  confirmed  the  authenticity  of  the 
instrument,  which  was  restored  in  1875  by  Cesare 
Ponsicchi,  of  Florence,  and  described  and  pictured 
it  in  his  monograph  on  the  origin  and  evolution  of 
the  pianoforte,  published  in  1876. 

The  case  of  the  instrument,  which  preserves  the 
shape  of  the  old-fashioned  harpsichords,  is  seven  feet 
and  one-quarter  inches  long,  three  feet  and  three 
inches  wide,  and  three  feet  high.  It  has  a  compass 
of  four  and  a  half  octaves  (fifty-four  notes)  from  the 
second  leger  line  below  the  bass  staff  to  the  fourth 
space  above  the  treble  staff.  Its  longest  string  is 
six  feet  and  two  inches;  its  shortest  two  inches.  Its 
thickest  string  is  seven-tenths  of  a  millimetre  in 
diameter;  its  thinnest  four- tenths  of  a  millimetre. 
There  are  only  three  thicknesses  of  strings,  and 
those  of  the  lowest  six  tones  are  uniform  in  length 
and  thickness,  the  variation  in  pitch  being  occa- 
sioned by  difference  in  tension.* 

'  "The  strings  of  the  pianoforte  were  originally  of  very  thin 
wire.  The  difference  between  them  and  those  now  in  use  is  very 
striking.  As  an  illustration  we  may  remark  that  the  smallest  wire 
formerly  used  for  the  C  in  the  third  space  of  the  treble  staff  was 
No.  7;  that  now  used  for  the  same  note  is  No.  i6.  The  weight 
of  the  striking  length  of  the  first  is  five  and  a  half  grains;  ->f  that 
of  the  second,  twenty-one  grains.  This  is  sufficient  to  account 
for  the  increased   bracing  in  the  modern  pianoforte."     ('The 

32 


The  Pianoforte  of  To-day 


The  frame  is  of  hard  wood  and  the  case  rim  is- 
only  half  an  inch  thick.  The  sounding  board  is 
strengthened  by  belly-bars,  and,  unlike  those  of 
the  modern  pianoforte,  the  dampers  extend  through 
the  entire  register  of  the  instrument.  New  ham- 
mers have  been  put  in  the  action,  which  are  modern 
in  shape,  though  very  light;  but  the  action  itself  is 
Cristofori's,  albeit  showing  improvements  on  the 
mechanism  described  in  the  account  of  Scipione 
Maffei  printed  in  the  "Giornale  de'  Litterati 
d'ltaha,"  of  Venice,  in  1711.  It  is  a  marvel  of 
ingenuity  compared  with  the  actions  of  half  a  cen- 
tury later.  It  allows  repetition  of  the  blow,  though 
it  lacks  what  is  called  the  "double  escapement." 

Since  I  am  not  writing  an  exhaustive  history  of 
the  pianoforte,  nor  a  treatise  on  its  construction, 
it  will  not  be  expected  of  me  that  I  trace  the  devel- 
opment of  the  instrument  through  all  its  steps,  or 
describe  all  its  parts  in  technical  phrase.^     It  will 

Pianoforte,"  by  Edward  F.  Rimbault,  LL.D.,  London,  i860, 
p.  178.) 

The  contrast  between  old  and  modern  stringing  will  be  illus- 
trated even  more  vividly  when  at  the  end  of  this  chapter  I  bring 
the  features  of  the  Cristofori  instrument  into  juxtaposition  with 
those  of  a  Stein  way  Grand. 

*  To  those  interested  in  the  subject  I  would  recommend  the 
study  of  "The  Pianoforte,  Its  Origin,  Progress,  and  Construc- 
tion, etc.,"  by  Edward  F.  Rimbault,  LL.D.  (London:  Robert 
Cocks  &  Co.,  i860);  "Geschichte  des  Claviers  vom  Ursprunge 
bis  zu  den  modernsten  Formen  dieses  Instrumentes,"  by  Dr. 
Oscar  Paul  (Leipsic:    A.  H.  Payne,  1868);    and  especially  "A 

33 


The  Instrument 


suffice  if  I  point  out  the  changes  which  have  taken 
place  in  the  instrument  from  the  time  of  its  inven- 
tion up  to  the  present,  in  order  to  show,  as  I  shall 
hope  to  do  later,  how  these  changes,  in  connection 
with  other  things,  influenced  the  style  of  piano- 
forte composition  and  the  manner  of  pianoforte 
playing.  Also  how  the  desires  of  composer  and 
performer  influenced  the  manufacturer.  This  is 
the  kind  of  knowledge,  it  seems  to  me,  which  is  of 
practical  value  to  the  music-lovers  for  whom  this 
book  is  intended. 

Speaking  in  round  terms,  the  pianoforte  had  to 
reach  the  age  allotted  by  the  Psalmist  to  man  before 
it  achieved  recognition  from  musicians  as  a  suc- 
cessful rival  of  the  harpsichord  as  an  instrument 
for  public  performance.  During  this  time  it  was, 
indeed,  but  a  rudimentary  affair,  a  mongrel; 
neither  a  harpsichord  nor  a  pianoforte  in  the 
modern  sense.  It  long  remained,  in  fact,  what  its 
French  and  Italian  inventors  called  it  in  the  de- 
scriptions of  their  inventions:  a  harpsichord  with 
hammers  and,  in  consequence  of  these,  possessing 
the  capability  to  give  out  tones  piano  and  forte. 
Up  to  1820  wood  only  entered  into  the  construction 
of  its  frame.  The  introduction  of  metal  was  a  slow 
growth  and,  to  judge  by  the  printed  record  of  the 

Description  and  History  of  the  Pianoforte  and  of  the  Older  Key- 
board Stringed  Instruments,"  by  A.  J.  Hipkins  (London  and  New 
York:  Novello,  Ewer  &  Co.,  1896). 

34 


The  Pianoforte  of  To-day 


patent  offices  and  books,  the  causes  which  led  to 
it  were  mechanical  merely;— manufacturers  wanted 
to  utilize  some  of  the  space  taken  up  by  the  wooden 
beams  and  trusses  necessary  to  enable  the  frame  to 
stand  the  strain  imposed  by  the  strings  for  silly  con- 
trivances, such  as  drums,  cymbah,  etc.,  which  had 
won  a  large  popularity  as  attachments  to  harpsi- 
chords; also  to  compensate  for  the  expansion  and 
contraction  of  the  metal  strings,  and  finally,  and 
chiefly,  to  gain  the  greater  strength  and  rigidity 
necessitated  by  a  steady  increase  in  the  diameter 
and  tension  of  the  strings. 

It  appears  to  me,  however,  that  a  purely  artistic 
influence  must  also  have  played  its  part  in  the  in- 
troduction of  a  reform  which  in  a  few  decades  grew 
into  a  revolution.     It  is  easy  to  imagine  that  the 
change  from  plucking  the  strings  with  quill-points 
to  striking  them  with  hammers  would  soon  bring 
in  a  change  in  finger-action.     In  the  music  of  the 
quilled  instruments  there  was  neither  accent  nor 
dynamic    variety    beyond    that    which    could    be 
achieved  by  such  mechanical   means   as   I   have 
described  in  my  account  of  the  devices  applied  to 
the  harpsichord  for  the  purpose  of  mitigating  its 
inherent  imperfections.     The  effect  of  a  slow  pres- 
sure on  the  keys  was  much  the  same  as  that  of  a 
quick  blow.     Very  different,  indeed,  was  the  effect 
in  the  manipulation  of  the  hammer-action.     A  gen- 
tle blow— a  caress— produced  a  soft  tone,  a  sharp 

35 


The  Instrument 


blow  a  loud  one;  and  there  were  left  at  the  com- 
mand of  the  player  all  the  gradations  between.  The 
fingers  no  longer  walked  monotonously  over  the 
keys  ''with  gentle  gait"  hke  those  of  the  dark  lady 
apostrophized  by  Shakespeare  in  his  sonnet,  but 
pounced  upon  them  smartly,  and  the  weight  of  the 
hand  came  to  play  its  part.  Now  it  is  not  the 
weight  of  the  hand  alone,  but  the  energy  of  the 
muscles  of  the  wrist  and  forearm  as  well.  We  shall 
see,  presently,  when  we  come  to  review  the  develop- 
ment of  pianoforte  technique,  how  gradually  this 
change  in  the  style  of  playing  took  place,  but  there 
is  little  doubt  in  my  mind  that  the  emotionalism 
which  strove  against  aesthetic  conservatism  from  the 
earliest  times  down  to  Beethoven  exerted  a  steady 
pressure  along  the  line  which  has  ended  in  the  stu- 
pendous instrument  and  the  Samsonian  players  of 
to-day. 

With  an  increase  in  the  weight  and  tension  of 
the  strings,  due  in  part  on  the  mechanical  side  to 
improvement  in  the  manufacture  of  steel  wire,  there 
grew  the  need  of  greater  solidity  and  strength  in  the 
parts  of  the  instrument  called  upon  to  endure  the 
strain  of  the  strings.  The  frame  was  ingeniously 
trussed  in  various  ways,  but  as  the  strain  increased 
it  was  found  that  in  spite  of  everything  the  fierce 
pull  of  the  strings  from  the  piece  of  timber  holding 
the  pins  to  which  the  further  end  of  the  strings  was 
fastened,  the  wrest  plank,  into  which  the  tuning- 

36 


The  Pianoforte  of  To-day 


pegs  were  driven,  warped  the  wooden  structure  so 
that  in  a  comparatively  short  time  it  became  dis- 
torted and  so  disorganized » that  the  instrument 
would  not  stand  in  tune.  It  was  a  common  thing 
two  generations  ago  to  interrupt  a  concert  with 
an  intermission,  not  so  much  to  enable  the  player 
to  rest  and  the  listeners  to  unbend  and  refresh 
themselves  with  chatter,  as  is  the  case  now,  as 
to  allow  the  tuner  time  to  reset  the  tuning-pegs. 
This  was  due  to  three  defects  which  have  been 
largely  remedied  since — namely,  want  of  rigidity  in 
the  frame,  lack  of  elasticity  in  the  strings  and  of 
firmness  in  the  wrest  pins.  I  have  known  pianists 
to  render  a  pianoforte  discordant  in  our  own  day, 
but  this  was  not  so  much  because  of  the  vehemence 
with  which  they  belabored  the  instrument  as  a  mal- 
treatment of  the  pedals — shifting  the  hammer  by 
means  of  the  left  pedal  from  one  of  each  set  of 
unison  strings,  and  then  pounding  upon  the  others. 
Naturally  the  struck  strings  were  stretched  by  the 
process,  while  the  untouched  unisons  remained  at 
the  original  tension. 

The  idea  of  obviating  the  defects  due  to  an  all- 
wood  frame  by  the  employment  of  metal  seems  to 
have  haunted  the  minds  of  pianoforte  makers  long 
before  it  found  realization.  Prejudice,  doubtless, 
played  a  role  here.  For  a  quarter  of  a  century  or 
more  after  its  introduction  metal  was  looked  upon 
as  a  necessary  evil.     William  Pole,  quite  as  good  an 

37 


The  Instrument 


authority  on  music  as  on  whist,  in  a  book  on  "The 
Musical  Instruments  in  the  Great  Industrial  Ex- 
hibition of  185 1,"  and  Dr.  Rimbault  after  him,  ex- 
pressed the  opinion  that  the  tendency  to  the  use  of 
too  much  metal  in  the  construction  of  pianofortes 
threatened  injury  to  the  quality  of  the  tone.  Mr. 
Hipkins,  a  later  and  greater  authority,  writing 
thirty  years  after  Pole  and  Rimbault,  was  not  at  all 
fearful  of  the  modern  steel  frame,  for  he  says: 

The  greater  elasticity  of  iron  as  compared  with  wood  does 
not  allow  the  lesser  vibrating  sections  or  upper  partial  tones 
of  a  string  to  die  away  as  soon  as  they  would  with  the  less 
elastic  wood.  The  consequence  is  that  in  instruments  where 
iron  or  steel  preponderates  in  the  framing  there  is  a  longer 
sostenente  or  singing  tone,  and  increasingly  so  as  there  is  a 
higher  tension  or  strain  on  the  wire.  Where  wood  pre- 
ponderates, these  vibrating  sections  die  out  sooner.  The  ex- 
tremes of  these  conditions  are  a  metallic  whizzing  or  tinkling 
and  a  dull  "woody"  tone.  The  middle  way,  as  so  often 
happens,  is  to  be  preferred. 

The  three  large  steps  from  the  all-wood  frame  to 
the  modern  frame  of  cast-steel,  which  now  takes  up 
in  itself  all  the  strain  of  the  stringsy  were  the  use 
of  bars  and  tubes  between  the  hitching  and  wrest- 
planks,  the  addition  of  an  iron  hitching-plate,  and 
the  casting  of  an  iron  frame  with  all  its  parts  in  one 
piece.  As  in  the  case  of  the  action,  three  men  of 
three  nationalities  seem  to  have  marked  the  steps 
independently   of  each   other.     They   were   John 

38 


The  Pianoforte  of  To-day 


Isaac  Hawkins,  an  Englishman,  who  came  to  the 
United  States  toward  the  close  of  the  eighteenth 
century  and  patented  the  upright  pianoforte  in 
1800;  William  Allen,  a  Scotchman,  who  while 
working  in  London  in  1820  introduced  tubular 
braces  of  metal,  and  Alpheus  Babcock,  who  pat- 
ented an  iron  frame  in  a  single  casting  in  Boston 
in  1825.  The  application  of  the  system  to  the  three 
styles  of  the  instrument,  square  (now  practically 
obsolete),  upright  (Cottage,  Cabinet,  Piccolo,  etc.), 
and  grand,  was  only  a  matter  of  time,  but  it  was 
again  an  American,  Jonas  Chickering,  of  Boston, 
who  invented  the  complete  iron  frame  for  the  con- 
cert grand.  The  structure,  which  three-quarters  of 
a  century  ago  buckled  under  the  pull  of  the  puny 
strings  then  in  use,  can  now  resist  a  strain  of  thirty 
tons. 

The  changes  which  have  taken  place  in  the  string- 
ing of  piano-fortes  have  been  quite  as  radical  and 
extensive  as  those  in  the  construction  of  the  frame 
which  they  were  chiefly  instrumental  in  bringing 
about.  The  makers  of  the  pianoforte's  precur- 
sors were  diligent  in  the  search  for  metals  which 
might  ennoble  the  wiry,  tinkling  tone  of  their  in- 
struments. As  the  old  organ  builders  sometimes 
mixed  precious  metals  in  the  composition  of  their 
pipes,  so  the  makers  of  clavichord  and  harpsichord 
wire  sometimes  turned  to  silver  and  gold.  In  the 
catalogue  of  the  court  orchestra  of  Philip  II.,  1602, 

39 


The  Instrument 


mention  is  made  of  a  clavichord  of  ebony,  with 
cover  of  cypress,  keys  of  ivory,  and  strings  of  gold. 
Experiments  were  made  with  gut,  silk,  and  latten. 

Gold  and  silver  compounded  [says  Dr.  Rimbaultl  and  ren- 
dered elastic  would  undoubtedly  produce  beautiful  tones.  A 
gold  string  or  wire  will  sound  stronger  than  a  silver  one;  those 
of  brass  and  steel  give  feebler  sounds  than  those  of  gold  and 
silver.  Silk  strings  were  made  of  the  single  threads  of  the 
silkworm,  a  sufficient  number  of  them  being  taken  to  form  a 
chord  of  the  required  thickness;  these  were  smeared  over  with 
the  white  of  eggs,  which  was  rendered  consistent  by  passing 
the  threads  through  heated  oil.  The  string  was  exceedingly 
uniform  in  its  thickness,  but  produced  a  tone  which  the  per- 
former called  tubby. 

The  earliest  pianofortes  were  strung  with  brass 
wire  for  the  lower  tones  and  steel  for  the  upper. 
Seven  or  eight  thicknesses  of  strings  were  used  in 
the  clavichords,  spinets,  and  harpsichords  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  but  the  Cristofori  pianoforte 
discloses  but  three  diameters.  The  evidence  ad- 
duced by  this  instrument,  however,  is  not  unim- 
peachable in  this  respect,  since  Signor  Ponsicchi 
may  have  found  it  necessary,  or  thought  it  wise,  to 
alter  the  stringing  so  far  as  diameters  were  con- 
cerned, when  he  restored  it  in  1875.  In  the  modern 
instrument  all  the  strings  are  of  steel,  though  those 
for  the  lowest  twenty  tones  (taking  the  Steinway 
Grand  as  a  model)  consist  of  a  steel  core  wrapped 
about  closely  (like  the  G-string  of  a  violin)  with  wire 

40 


The  Pianoforte  of  To-day 


of  a  compound  metal  to  give  them  greater  weight 
and  compensate  for  their  disproportionate  vibrating 
length.  Irrespective  of  this  covering,  eighteen  dif- 
ferent sizes  of  wire  are  used,  the  development  dur- 
ing the  last  century  having  been  not  only  along  the 
lines  of  elasticity,  tenacity,  and  tension,  but  also 
diameter.  The  lowest  eight  bass  tones  are  pro- 
duced by  single  strings,  covered;  the  next  five,  by 
double  unisons,  covered;  the  next  seven  by  triple 
unisons,  covered,  and  the  remaining  sixty-eight  by 
triple  unisons,  of  simple  wire.  In  all  243  strings  are 
employed  to  produce  the  eighty-eight  tones  of  the 
concert  grand.  The  average  strain  on  each  string 
may  be  set  down  in  round  numbers  at  176  pounds. 
It  was  much  higher  before  an  agreement  was  reached 
some  fifteen  years  ago  among  the  principal  piano- 
forte manufacturers  of  the  United  States  to  adopt  a 
lower  pitch  than  the  old  London  Philharmonic, 
which  had  long  been  standard,  and  which  many 
makers  gave  up  grudgingly  because  of  a  belief  that 
it  was  more  brilliant  than  the  French  diapason 
normal}  Before  the  change  a  Steinway  Concert 
Grand  endured  a  strain  of  nearly  60,000  pounds; 
now  the  pull  is  the  equivalent  of  43,000  pounds. 

The  Cristofori  pianoforte  has  a  compass  of  four 
and  one-half  octaves,  from  C  on  the  second  leger 
line  below  the  bass  staflf  to  F  in  the  fourth  space 

'  The  exact  Steinway  pitch  is  still  a  trifle  more  acute  than  the 
diapason  normal,  viz.:  A=438i%  as  against  A=435. 

41 


The  Instrument 


above  the  treble.  Very  early  the  keys  were  ex- 
tended downward  to  F,  on  the  fourth  leger  line  be- 
low the  bass  staff,  so  as  to  give  the  instrument  five 
octaves.  At  the  time  of  Haydn  and  Mozart  five 
and  five  and  a  half  octaves  were  in  use,  Clementi 
having  added  the  half  octave  in  1793.  The  piano- 
forte which  Broadwood,  the  English  manufacturer, 
sent  to  Beethoven  in  181 7  had  a  compass  of  six 
octaves,  but  six  and  a  half  had  already  been  reached 
in  181 1,  and  the  practical  extreme  of  seven  octaves 
in  1836.  I  say  the  "practical  extreme"  because 
the  three  notes  which  have  been  added  since  are 
of  no  artistic  value.  This,  I  venture  to  say,  will  not 
be  disputed  by  any  honest  maker,  but  commercial 
considerations  have  led  to  their  preservation.  B6- 
sendorfer,  in  Vienna,  however,  has  made  an  "Im- 
perial Concert  Grand"  with  a  compass  of  eight 
octaves,  from  sub-contra  F,  in  the  eighth  space 
below  the  bass  staff,  to  E  in  altississimo,  in  the 
eleventh  space  above  the  treble. 

Pianoforte  strings  increase  in  thickness  as  the 
tones  proceed  down  the  scale  in  obedience  to  a  law 
of  acoustics  which  teaches  that  when  strings  have 
the  same  length  and  tension,  but  differ  in  weight 
(that  is,  thickness),  their  vibrations  are  in  inverse 
proportion  to  their  weight.  Two  other  canons  of 
the  stretched  string  are  also  of  validity,  one  of 
which  teaches  that  as  a  string  is  lengthened  it  vi- 
brates more  slowly,  as  it  is  shortened  more  rapidly, 

42 


The  Pianoforte  of  To-day 


the  tension  remaining  the  same;  in  the  former  case 
the  tone  produced  is  graver  (lower  is  the  popular 
definition);  in  the  latter  more  acute  (higher)  than 
the  fundamental.  According  to  the  second  canon 
the  tighter  a  string  is  drawn  the  higher  the  tone; 
the  looser  the  slower  its  vibrations  and  the  lower 
the  tone,  the  length  remaining  equal.  All  three 
canons  find  their  application  in  the  stringing  of 
pianofortes.  The  old  rule,  still  prevailing  in  some 
houses,  like  that  of  Erard,  in  Paris,  and  their  imi- 
tators, is  to  dispose  the  strings  parallel  with  each 
other.  The  majority  of  manufacturers  the  world 
over,  however,  have  taken  a  leaf  out  of  the  book  of 
American  practice  and  carry  the  overspun  bass 
strings  of  the  lowest  octave  across  a  number  of  the 
strings  immediately  adjoining.  The  disposition  is 
thus  fan-shaped  and  greater  length  is  obtained  for 
the  strings  of  the  lowest  octave.  This  is  the  so- 
called  overstrung  scale,  the  combination  of  which 
with  the  solid  steel  or  iron  frame  is  the  distinguish- 
ing feature  of  the  American  pianoforte,  a  feature 
that  has  been  extensively  adopted  in  European 
countries. 

The  principle  exemplified  in  the  overstrung  scale, 
like  the  other  features  of  construction  the  invention 
of  which  has  been  discusssed,  had  long  been  in  the 
air  before  it  was  successfully  applied.  The  device 
was  employed  in  clavichords  of  the  eighteenth  cent- 
ury, and  it  seems  likely  that  the  idea  was  fermenting 

43 


The  Instrument 


simultaneously  in  the  minds  of  the  American  in- 
ventor of  the  solid  iron  frame  for  a  square  piano- 
forte, Alpheus  Babcock,  and  Theobald  Boehm, 
the  German  who  revolutionized  the  flute  by  his  new 
boring  and  system  of  keys.  Cabinet  and  square 
pianofortes  are  now  made  in  London  after  Boehm's 
design  in  1835,  but  overstrung  squares  were  ex- 
hibited in  New  York  two  years  before,  and  the 
patent  of  Babcock  for  "cross-stringing  piano- 
fortes" (his  meaning  is  vague  and  the  original 
record  is  lost)  was  taken  out  in  1830.  In  1859 
Henry  Engelhard  Steinway,  grandfather  of  the 
present  president  of  the  corporation  of  Steinway  & 
Sons,  combined  an  overstrung  scale  with  a  solid 
metal  frame,  thus  taking  the  last  really  radical  step 
in  the  development  of  che  American  pianoforte. 
What  has  been  done  since  is  in  the  way  of  develop- 
ment of  the  system  in  details. 

The  mechanism  by  means  of  which  the  hammer 
is  made  to  strike  the  string  and  set  it  to  vibrating 
is  a  marvel  of  ingenuity.  Its  simplest  form  was 
that  shown  in  the  tangent  of  the  clavichord — by  de- 
pressing the  key  a  short  tongue  of  metal  was  thrust 
against  the  string.  The  key  was  a  simple  lever, 
and  the  metal  tongue,  the  tangent,  had  to  be  held 
against  the  string  as  long  as  it  was  desired  that  the 
tone  should  sound.  The  next  step  in  the  way  of 
improvement  was  to  hitch  the  handle  of  a  small 
hammer  to  a  rail  with  leather  hinges  and  to  replace 

44 


The  Pianoforte  of  To-day 


the  tangent  with  a  bit  of  stiff  wire  with  a  leather 
button  at  the  end,  placed  upright  on  the  further 
end  of  the  key.  A  slow  pressure  on  the  key  lifted 
the  hammer-head  to  within  a  short  distance  of  the 
string;  a  blow  impelled  the  hammer  away  from, 
the  key  with  its  metal  spine  and  against  the  string, 
from  which  it  fell  by  its  own  weight.  This  device 
was  imperfect,  in  that  the  blow  necessary  to  the 


Hammer-Action  of  a  Grand  Pianoforte 

production  of  a  tone  had  to  be  so  strong  that  very 
soft  playing  was  impossible.  Then  came  the  de- 
vice which  in  various  forms  and  modifications  has 
remained  in  use  till  now.  The  key  raises  a  hopper 
which  exerts  a  thrust  against  the  hammer-shank 
with  an  energy  corresponding  to  that  exerted  by 
the  finger  of  the  player.  The  hammer  is  thrown 
against  the  string,  and  on  its  recoil  is  caught  by  a 
check  which  prevents  its  rebounding  and  holds  it 
in  readiness  for  a  repetition. 

45 


The  Instrument 


The  fact  that  the  hammer  does  not  need  to  travel 
over  the  entire  distance  from  its  resting  place  to 
the  string  makes  extremely  rapid  repetitions  of  the 
blow  possible.  As  the  key  acts  upon  the  hopper 
it  also  raises  a  damper  of  wood  lined  with  felt, 
which  in  its  normal  position  lies  against  the  string 
from  above.  The  release  of  the  key  brings  this 
damper  back  to  its  place  of  rest  and  checks  the 
vibrations  of  the  string,  thus  preventing  the  dis- 
cordant confusion  of  tones  which  would  be  heard  if 
they  were  permitted  to  die  by  the  gradual  cessation 
of  the  vibrations.  When  it  is  desired  that  the  tones 
shall  continue  through  a  series  of  arpeggios  or  a 
repeated  harmony  all  the  dampers  are  raised  si- 
multaneously by  means  of  a  pedal,  the  one  to  the 
right — the  damper  pedal,  commonly  spoken  of  as 
the  loud  pedal,  though  its  use  for  the  purpose  of 
increasing  the  volume  of  tone  is  the  cheapest  to 
which  it  can  be  put.  The  left  pedal  shifts  the  action 
sidewise  so  that  the  hammers  strike  only  one  of  the 
double  and  two  of  the  triple  unisons,  leaving  the 
others  untouched  to  vibrate  sympathetically.  This  is 
the  action  of  the  left  pedal  in  the  grand  pianoforte; 
in  the  upright  it  moves  the  hammer-action  nearer 
to  the  strings  so  that  the  hammer  describes  a  smaller 
arc  in  reaching  the  strings  and  its  force  is  lessened; 
in  the  obsolete  square  it  interposed  a  strip  of  felt 
between  the  hammers  and  the  strings  and  thus 
softened  the  tone. 

46 


The  Pianoforte  of  To-day 


The  soft  pedal  movement  of  the  grand  does  more 
than  diminish  the  volume  of  tone;  the  tone  emitted 
by  the  strings  which  have  not  felt  the  impact  of 
the  hammer  but  vibrate  sympathetically — that  is  to 
say,  in  response  to  atmospheric  waves  sent  forth 
by  their  unisons — is  of  an  seolian  sweetness  and 
lends  a  color  of  wonderful  charm  to  the  music.  It 
is  the  desire  to  combine  this  tint  with  sonority  that 
tempts  pianists  to  the  abuse  of  the  instrument  dis- 
cussed in  connection  with  the  difficulty  of  keeping 
pianofortes  in  tune  before  the  introduction  of  the 
metal  frame.  On  some  pianofortes  there  is  a  third 
pedal  between  the  other  two,  called  the  Tone  Sus- 
taining Pedal,  the  action  of  which  is  to  withhold 
the  dampers  from  the  string  or  strings  struck  just 
before  the  depression  of  the  pedal. 

The  actions  which  have  been  in  use  for  many 
decades  are  modifications  of  three  models: — the 
English  perfected  by  Broadwood,  the  French  repe- 
tition invented  by  Sebastian  Erard,and  the  Viennese 
invented  and  perfected  in  Vienna.  These  models 
have  been  modified  in  particulars  but  not  in  prin- 
ciples by  different  manufacturers  to  suit  the  re- 
quirements of  their  instruments. 

A  compa'  .son  of  some  of  the  details  of  the  Cris- 
tofori  pifi-ioforte  in  the  Crosby  Brown  collection 
at  the  '^■'  -etropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  in  New  York, 
and  a  modern  concert  grand  made  by  Steinway  & 
Sons  will  help  to  illustrate  the  tremendous  progress 

47 


The  Instrument 


made  in  the  art  of  pianoforte  construction  from  the 
time  of  the  invention  of  the  instrument  till  now. 
The  Steinway  concert  grand  pianoforte  is  8  feet 
and  lo  inches  long  and  5  feet  wide.  The  weight  of 
its  metal  plate  is  320  pounds,  which  probably  is 
more  than  the  weight  of  the  Cristofori  instrument 
in  its  entirety.  The  total  weight  of  the  Steinway 
is  1,040  pounds.  It  has  a  compass  of  seven  and 
a  quarter  octaves  (eighty-eight  keys),  against  the 
Cristofori's  four  and  a  half  octaves  (fifty-four  keys), 
its  range  extending  nineteen  keys  above  the  top 
note  of  the  Cristofori  instrument  and  fifteen  belosL- 
the  bottom  note.  The  longest  string  of  the  Stein- 
way is  six  feet  seven  and  one-half  inches  in  length, 
its  shortest  two  inches;  the  longest  string  of  the 
Cristofori  is  six  feet  two  inches,  the  shortest  four 
and  one-half  inches;  but  the  longest  string  of  the 
Steinway  consists  of  a  steel  core  two  millimetres 
thick,  wound  with  wire  thicker  than  the  thickest 
strings  of  the  Cristofori,  so  that  the  Steinway  string 
is  in  all  five  millimetres  thick.  One  or  two  octaves 
of  these  bass  strings  contain  enough  metal  to  string 
the  Cristofori  pianoforte  throughout.  The  thickest 
string  on  the  Cristofori  is  smaller  i-r  diameter  than 
the  thinnest  string  on  the  Steinway.  The  triple 
unisons  on  the  Steinway  which  produce'-'^he  lowest 
note  of  the  Cristofori  are  wound  and  tv  o  milli- 
metres thick.  The  highest  note  of  the  Cristofori 
has  a  string  five  and  one-half  inches  long  on  ., 
•         48 


The  Pianoforte  of  To-day 


Steinway  and  exerts  a  strain  of  170  pounds  for  each 
of  its  three  unisons.  A  few  such  strains  would 
crush  the  frame  of  the  Cristofori  pianoforte  hke 
an  eggshell,  but  it  is  not  much  more  than  the  hun- 
dredth part  of  what  the  Steinway  frame  is  called 
upon  to  endure.^ 

*  For  assistance  in  making  this  comparison  I  am  much  beholden 
to  Mr.  Henry  Ziegler. 


49 


Part  II 
The  Composers 


IV 

The  Earliest  Clavier  Music 

THE  period  of  musical  composition  which  falls 
naturally  and  properly  within  the  scope  of 
this  book  is  coextensive  with  the  period  within 
which  stringed  instruments  with  keyboards  were 
developing  into  significant  factors  in  the  economy 
of  music.  If  we  were  to  confine  ourselves  strictly 
to  the  period  which  has  elapsed  since  the  invention 
of  the  pianoforte  we  should  not  be  able  to  extend 
our  inquiries  further  back  than  the  earliest  known 
publication  embracing  the  name  or  a  description  of 
the  instrument  in  its  title.  This  publication,  ac- 
cording to  Mr.  Hipkins,  is  a  set  of  sonatas  (the  word 
sonata  used  in  a  sense  less  determinate  than  it  pos- 
sesses now,  as  will  presently  appear  in  this  study) 
composed  by  D.  Lodovico  Giustini  di  Pistoia,  and 
printed  in  Florence  in  1732,  The  pieces  are  de- 
scribed on  the  title  page  as  being  Da  Cimbalo  di 
piano  e  forte  detto  volgarmente  di  Martellatti — that 
is,  "for  the  harpsichord,  with  soft  and  loud,  com- 
monly called  with  little  hammers."  The  repertory 
of  the  modern  pianist  extends  back  of  the  date  of 
this  publication  more  than  a  century,  however,  and 
in  its  earlier  portion  shows  so  interesting  a  phase 


The  Composers 


of  musical  evolution  that  it  would  be  a  grievous 
error  to  omit  it  from  consideration. 

I  cannot  include  in  this  part  of  my  study,  how- 
ever, such  a  genesis  of  principles  as  I  allowed  my- 
self in  the  promenade  toward  the  avenue  in  the 
first  part.  Speculation,  the  study  of  poets'  utter- 
ances and  the  legends  of  ancient  peoples,  the  in- 
spection of  ancient  sculptures  and  mural  paintings, 
may  help  us  to  conceptions  of  the  appearance  and 
even  capacity  of  early  instruments,  but  they  can 
teach  us  nothing  of  the  music  practised  during  the 
eras  in  which  they  arose.  For  us  the  history  of 
instrumenal  music  does  not  begin  until  the  four- 
teenth century,  and  it  is  a  fact  of  profoundest  sig- 
nificance that  we  find  the  instrumental  art  still  in 
its  dawn  when  the  vocal  art  reaches  its  meridian. 
The  reasons  are  not  far  to  seek.  Though  more  in- 
struments were  used  in  the  secular  practice  than 
now,  most  of  them  were  scarcely  more  developed 
than  their  precursors  which  are  to  be  found  in  a 
state  of  arrested  development  in  the  Far  East  to- 
day. The  influence  of  the  taboo  which  the  church 
had  placed  on  the  instrumental  art  while  the  musi- 
cal law-givers  were  exclusively  churchmen  had  not 
yet  worn  off.  As  late  as  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth 
centuries  secular  musicians  were  vagabonds  in  the 
eye  of  the  law.     Like  strolling  players 

Beggars  they  were  with  one  consent, 
And  rogues  by  act  of  Parliament. 

54 


The  Earliest  Clavier  Music 


The  organist  enjoyed  an  honorable  exception,  but 
it  was  not  until  the  mechanism  of  the  organ  key- 
board had  been  developed  so  as  to  permit  of  some- 
thing like  the  modern  facility  of  manipulation  that 
music  more  fluent  than  the  medieeval  church  chants 
could  be  performed  upon  the  instrument.  In  the 
preceding  centuries  the  key-mechanism  was  so  cum- 
bersome that  a  heavy  pressure  of  the  hand  or  a 
blow  of  the  fist  was  required  to  force  a  key  down. 
For  a  long  time  in  Germany  organists  were  called 
Orgelschldger — that  is,  "organ  beaters" — because 
of  the  action  of  their  hands  in  playing.  The  simi- 
larity between  the  keyboards  of  the  organ,  clavi- 
chord, and  the  various  quilled  instruments  (which  I 
shall  frequently  allude  to  generically  as  claviers) 
turned  the  attention  of  organists  to  them  as  soon 
as  the  effect  of  the  ecclesiastical  taboo  began  to 
wear  off,  and  other  than  ecclesiastical  music  began 
to  be  admitted  to  polite  habitations;  but  there  was 
a  long  controversy  between  the  artistic  and  the 
popular  practice.  Even  after  compositions  for  key- 
board stringed  instruments  began  to  appear  in 
print  it  was  not  uncommon  to  find  them  described 
as  pieces  translated  from  "music"  to  notation  for 
instruments — organ,  lute,  and  clavier  sometimes 
being  specified,  sometimes  not.  "Music"  was  still 
so  dignified  a  term  that  it  had  to  be  protected  from 
association  with  the  agencies  which  had  no  employ- 
ment in  the  service  of  the  church. 

55 


The  Composers 


It  was  the  organ  that  played  the  part  of  interceder 
and  advocate  of  the  instrumental  company  for  their 
admission  into  the  province  of  art,  and  it  was  in 
Venice  that  instrumental  music  began  to  flourish  in 
the  fourteenth  century.  The  skill  of  a  long  line 
of  organists  in  the  fourteenth,  fifteenth,  and  six- 
teenth centuries  shone  pre-eminently  among  the 
contemporaneous  glories  and  magnificence  of  the 
City  of  the  Doges.  The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mark 
was  the  magnet  that  drew  organ  players  to  Venice, 
as  the  Sistine  Chapel  drew  composers  and  singers 
to  Rome.  These  organists  gave  pomp  and  brill- 
iancy to  the  services,  to  which  kneeling  thousands 
listened,  by  their  improvisations  upon  church  melo- 
dies and  the  set  pieces  which  they  played  at  times 
when  the  choir  was  silent.  There  were  two  organs 
in  St.  Mark's,  each  generally  in  the  hands  of  one 
of  the  world's  greatest  masters,  and  they  were  em- 
ployed antiphonally  at  times  for  preludes,  inter- 
ludes, and  postludes  before,  between,  and  after 
portions  of  the  choral  service.  The  service  (such 
is  the  force  of  conservatism)  remained  exclusively 
vocal  for  the  two  hundred  years  in  which  the 
musical  glory  of  Venice  was  most  resplendent.  It 
was  not  until  a  new  era  had  been  ushered  in  by 
purely  secular  activities  that  the  organ  was  per- 
mitted to  lift  its  voice  along  with  the  voices  of  the 
singers. 

During  these  two  hundred  years  the  organists  of 
56 


The  Earliest  Clavier  Music 


Venice  and  other  art  capitals  gradually  worked  for 
the  emancipation  of  instrumental  music  from  the 
thraldom  of  the  church.  Of  the  pioneers  of  this 
movement  in  Italy  we  know  little  more  than  their 
names,  preserved  for  us  in  the  stories  of  their  fame. 
Francesco  Landini,  the  hey-day  of  whose  celebrity 
fell  in  the  seventh  decade  of  the  fourteenth  century, 
was  poet  as  well  as  organist.  He  was  a  Florentine, 
and  blind,  yet  one  of  the  brightest  ornaments  in  the 
festivities  given  by  the  doge  in  honor  of  the  King 
of  Cyprus  and  the  Archduke  of  Austria.  Petrarch 
stood  by  at  one  of  these  festivities  and  saw  the 
Florentine  Homer  crowned  with  laurel  for  some  of 
his  poetic  effusions.  Nevertheless,  the  laureate 
suffered  defeat  on  the  organ  bench  at  the  hands  of 
Francesco  da  Pesaro,  an  organist  of  St.  Mark's. 
Almost  simultaneously  another  blind  man  brought 
glory  to  Munich  and  won  tributes  from  royalty  by 
his  marvellous  skill.  This  was  Conrad  Paulmann, 
or  Paumann,  a  native  of  Nuremberg,  born  sightless, 
yet  a  sort  of  universal  genius  in  music.  Of  him,  it 
is  recorded  that  the  Emperor  Frederick  III.  gave 
him  a  sword  with  blade  of  gold  and  a  golden  chain. 
He  died  in  Munich  in  1473,  and  was  buried  in  the 
Church  of  Our  Lady.  His  tomb  shows  him  in 
effigy  seated  at  the  organ,  and  the  inscription  pro- 
claims him  to  have  been  Der  Kunstreichest  allerln- 
strumentisten  und  der  Musika  Maister.  So,  too,  a 
bust  in  the  cathedral  at  Florence  testifies  to  the 

57 


The  Composers 


fame  of  Antonio  Squarcialupi,  organist  of  the  cathe- 
dral about  1450, 

Of  other  Itahan  musicians  distinguished  in  the 
instrumental  field  in  the  fourteenth  century  the 
names,  but  not  the  works,  of  Nicolo  del  Proposto 
and  Jacopo  di  Bologna  are  preserved;  of  the  six- 
teenth, a  long  list  culminating  in  men  of  the  highest 
importance  in  the  development  of  the  science  and 
art  of  music — Claudio  Merulo,  Andrea  Gabrieli, 
and  Cipriano  di  Rore.  To  this  list  I  add  the  names 
of  a  few  men  who,  though  not  of  Italian  birth,  were 
yet  instrumental  in  the  development  of  Italian 
music,  viz.,  a  German  whose  name  was  obviously 
Bernhard  Stephan  Miirer,  but  who  was  called 
Bernardo  Stefanio  Murer  (and  also  Bernard  the 
German)  by  the  Italians;  Jacques  Buus,  who  was 
organist  of  St.  Mark's  for  ten  years,  from  1541  to 
1551  (in  which  latter  year  he  left  Venice),  and 
Adrien  Willaert,  founder  of  the  Venetian  school 
and  chapelmaster  of  St.  Mark's  for  a  period  begin- 
ning in  1527.  To  Bernard  is  credited  the  invention 
of  the  pedal  keyboard  for  the  organ.  Willaert  and 
Buus  were  Netherlanders. 

Instrumental  music,  having  begun  after  the  unac- 
companied style  of  vocal  music  had  been  perfected, 
was,  naturally  enough,  written  in  the  contrapuntal 
style  of  the  church.  Monophonic  music — that  is, 
a  melody  supported  by  harmonies  in  solid  or  broken 
chords — being  all  but  unknown  till  toward  the  end 

58 


The  Earliest  Clavier  Music 


of  the  sixteenth  century,  solo  music  except  that  in 
the  church  service  {i.  e.,  the  chanting  of  the  priest 
at  the  altar)  was  also  unknown.  When  various 
instruments  were  grouped  so  as  to  form  a  band, 
each  instrument  sang  its  part  precisely  as  the  in- 
dividual singer  in  the  choir  sang  his.  All  these 
parts  were  melodies,  and  all  were  equally  important 
in  the  musical  fabric.  There  was  no  subordina- 
tion of  three  or  more  of  the  contrapuntal  voices  to 
one  to  bring  out  the  beauty  or  sentiment  of  the 
tune  carried  by  that  voice.  Strictly  speaking,  there 
was  no  tune  in  the  modern  sense  any  more  than 
there  was  harmony  in  the  modern  sense.  Compo- 
sitions were  built  up  on  Gregorian  melodies,  and 
the  melody,  which  became  the  cantus  firmus  of  a 
piece,  was  allotted  to  one  voice  (generally  that  called 
the  tenor) ;  but  it  was  not  importunate  in  the  man- 
ner of  the  modern  melody.  On  the  contrary,  it  was 
frequently  less  assertive  than  the  voices  consorted 
with  it,  being  merely  a  stalking-horse  on  which  the 
ingenious  fabric  of  interwoven  melodies  was  hung. 
It  is  a  mistaken  impression  on  this  point  which  has 
led  to  the  wholesale  and  irrational  condemnation  of 
mediaeval  composers  for  using  secular  tunes  in  their 
masses.  The  popular  notion,  created  and  nour- 
ished by  the  vast  majority  of  writers  on  musical  his- 
tory, is  that  when  the  old  Netherlandish  composers 
wrote  masses  on  the  melody  of  "L'Homme  arme" 
(an  extremely   popular   subject),   or   "Dieu   quel 

59 


The  Composers 


mariage,"  the  effect  upon  the  hearers  was  something 
like  the  effect  would  be  upon  worshippers  of  to-day 
if  Credo  in  unum  Deum  or  Gloria  in  excelsis  Deo 
were  to  be  sung  to  the  tune  of  the  first  of  the  "  Beau- 
tiful Blue  Danube"  waltzes.  Nothing  could  be 
further  from  the  truth.  Many  a  critic  who  writes 
glibly  about  the  "secularization  of  the  mass"  in 
the  fifteenth  century  would  be  hard  put  to  it  to 
write  out  the  theme  of  a  "L'Homme  arme"  mass 
from  an  old  score  even  if  it  were  laid  before  him 
in  modern  notation,  while  to  distinguish  by  ear  the 
naughty  secular  tune  moving  through  the  contra- 
puntal mass  would  tax  the  ability  of  many  of  our 
professional  musicians. 

When  the  orchestra  took  its  rise  the  music  set 
down  for  the  different  instruments  differed  in  noth- 
ing from  vocal  music.  Compositions  were  pub- 
lished with  titles  indicating  that  they  were  to  be 
sung  or  played  as  one  wished.  Equally  vague  dur- 
ing this  period  was  the  terminology  of  the  instru- 
mental art.  There  were  Sonate,  Canzone,  Ricer- 
care,  Toccati,  Conlrapunti,  Fantasie,  and  so  on;  but 
the  names  were  but  obscure  indices  to  the  form  and 
contents  of  the  compositions.  Willaert  seems  to 
have  distinguished  between  his  fantasie  and  ricercare 
on  the  one  hand  and  his  contrapunti  on  the  other  by 
employing  themes  of  his  own  invention  for  the  for- 
mer and  church  melodies  for  the  latter.  The  only 
difference  between  a  sonata — the  term  originally 

60 


The  Earliest  Clavier  Music 


meant  no  more  than  a  "sound  piece"  as  dis- 
tinguished from  a  "song  piece" — and  a  canzona  per 
sonar,  which  Michael  Praetorius  could  point  out 
in  his  "Syntagma  musicum,"  published  in  1620, 
was  that  sonatas  were  grave  and  majestic  in  the 
style  of  the  motet,  while  canzonas  were  written  in 
notes  of  shorter  duration,  and  therefore  fresh,  lively, 
merry.  The  themes,  whether  original  or  borrowed 
from  the  church  chants,  were  varied  in  the  different 
compositions,  no  matter  what  they  were  called. 
They  were  worked  fugally,  bedecked  with  orna- 
mental passages,  transferred  from  part  to  part,  and 
motives  drawn  from  them  were  treated  in  imitation. 
The  composers  for  the  church  having  sought  for 
basic  melodies  in  secular  fields,  it  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  that  the  composers  for  instruments  did  the 
same.  The  songs  and  dances  of  the  people  were 
now  taken  as  themes,  and  in  Italy  there  appeared 
Canzone  Villanesche,  Canzone  Napolitane,  and  Can- 
zone Francese,  which  were  varied  in  like  manner  as 
the  church  melodies.  Dance  tunes  (galliards,  co- 
rantos,  and  chaconnes)  also  came  into  use,  and 
when  the  jig  (giga)  was  consorted  with  them  the 
time  was  ripe  for  their  combination  into  a  partita, 
or  suite — a  form  which  pointed  the  way  to  the 
cyclical  compositions  culminating  in  the  modern 
sonata  and  symphony.  The  employment  of  folk- 
tunes  stimulated  accompaniments  in  chords,  and 
under  the  inspiration  of  the  reformatory  movement 

61 


The  Composers 


begun  by  a  group  of  amateur  musicians  in  Florence 
as  a  protest  against  the  artificiality  and  lifelessness 
of  the  church  style,  also  dominant  in  the  theatre — 
a  movement  which  brought  about  the  invention  of 
the  opera — instrumental  music  was  slowly  emanci- 
pated from  the  vocal  yoke. 


62 


The  English  Virginalists 

ALREADY  in  the  sixteenth  century  England 
had  taken  the  lead  in  the  creation,  and  prob- 
ably also  in  the  performance  of  clavier  music.  In 
view  of  her  comparative  sterility  since,  it  would  be 
interesting  in  many  ways  to  know  where  to  go  to 
find  the  explanation  of  England's  pre-eminence  in 
one  department  of  music  before  and  during  the 
reign  of  Queen  Ehzabeth.  There  are  evidences 
enough  that  England  drew  her  fashions  in  music  as 
in  other  forms  of  artistic  culture  from  Italy  and 
France;  but  in  her  handling  of  the  borrowed  forms 
she  was  as  forward,  fresh,  vigorous,  and  energetic 
as  in  the  fields  in  which  she  created  her  own  models, 
namely,  poetry,  the  drama,  and  that  higher  type  of 
statecraft  which  makes  for  human  liberty.  Per- 
haps the  explanation  of  any  one  phenomenon  which 
shone  luminous  in  England's  Golden  Age  is  also 
the  explanation  of  the  other,  and  may  not  lie  hidden 
any  deeper  than  in  the  moral,  physical,  and  intel- 
lectual amalgam  which  resulted  from  blending  the 
rugged  virtues  of  Briton,  Saxon,  Norman,  and  Dane 
with  the  gentler  graces  lent  by  Latin  culture. 

63 


The  Composers 


To  my  readers  who  are  more  desirous  to  know 
something  of  the  musical  culture  growth  of  England 
at  this  time  than  to  follow  the  growth  of  the  techni- 
cal elements  in  composition,  I  advise  a  course  at 
once  more  profitable  and  more  pleasurable  than  that 
prescribed  in  the  handbooks.  It  is  to  look  at  the 
musical  taste  and  practices  of  Shakespeare's  people 
through  the  eyes  of  Shakespeare.  The  poet  wrote 
for  all  the  people  of  his  day  and  nation,  and  his  use 
of  words  and  phrases  appertaining  to  music  be- 
comes an  index  to  the  state  of  musical  culture  dur- 
ing the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  Elizabeth,  and 
James  I.,  which  is  frequently  luminous.  In  this 
respect  as  in  so  many  others,  he  shows  "the  very 
age  and  body  of  the  time,  his  form  and  pressure." 
As  he  wrote  for  the  whole  people  and  made  copious 
use  in  his  dramas  of  the  popular  music  of  the  day 
by  introduction  as  well  as  allusion,  it  is  to  be  as- 
sumed that  the  people  who  were  called  upon  to 
understand  and  enjoy  his  many  fleeting  allusions  to 
the  art  and  the  songs  which  he  took  out  of  their 
mouths  were  near  to  him  in  musical  taste  and 
knowledge.  Like  him  they  were  nimble-minded, 
up-to-date,  and  fearless  of  anachronisms.  There 
was  nothing  to  give  pause  to  the  fancy  or  judgment 
of  the  patrons  of  the  Globe  Theatre  in  the  circum- 
stance that  the  poet's  Frenchmen,  Italians,  Greeks, 
and  ancient  Britons  were  all  sixteenth  century  Eng- 
lishmen; that  they  thought,  talked,  sang,  acted, 
'^      64 


The  English  Virginallsts 


and  danced  like  the  people  of  Elizabeth's  court  or 
her  simpler  subjects. 

What  manner  of  people,  then,  were  they  to  whom 
Shakespeare  could  talk  blithely,  without  need  of 
oral  gloss  or  foot-note,  of  "discords,"  "stops," 
"rests,"  "dumps,"  "diapasons,"  "burdens,"  "des- 
cant," "divisions,"  "frets,"  "concords,"  "base," 
"sharps,"  "pricksong,"  "broken  music,"  "gamut," 
"A-re"  (and  so  on  through  the  notes  of  the  medi- 
aeval scale),  "plainsong,"  "minims,"  "means," 
"virginalling,"  "jacks,"  and  a  score  or  more  of 
similar  terms  belonging  to  the  vocabulary  of  music  ? 
Without  calling  for  evidence  outside  of  the  fact  that 
Shakespeare  did  so  write  we  must  conclude  that 
they  were  not  a  commonplace  people;  else  there 
would  have  been  no  Shakespeare  to  write  for  them. 
He  sprang  from  their  loins.  From  many  sources  we 
know  that  they  were  a  strong  people.  Rather  rude; 
having  those  physical,  mental,  and  moral  qualities 
dominant  which  marked  out  a  large  portion  of  the 
world  for  their  possession.  Stout  eaters  and  most 
courageous  drinkers.  Contentious.  Fond  of  show, 
and  fickle  of  taste  in  dress  as  the  devotees  of  fashion 
are  to-day.  Somewhat  given  to  swashbuckling,  I 
fear.  Heedful  of  the  laws  of  courtesy  and  gallant- 
ry, yet  plain-spoken.  Not  tender-hearted.  Kindli- 
ness and  pity  held  possession  of  only  a  small  por- 
tion of  their  souls;  even  the  Virgin  Queen  delighted 
in  bear-baiting.     The  women  not  prudish,  either  in 

65 


The  Composers 


the  playhouse  or  at  home,  but  frank  in  their  recog- 
nition of  natural  appetites.  Frank,  too,  and  ami- 
able in  the  exercise  of  the  social  amenities.  The 
hostess  or  her  daughter  might  greet  the  gentleman 
visitor  with  a  kiss — "a  custom  never  to  be  suffi- 
ciently commended,"  said  the  gentle  Erasmus;  and 
the  gentleman  might  ask  the  tribute  from  his  fair 
partner  after  each  dance — or  even  before,  to  judge 
by  King  Henry  VIII. 's  remark  on  first  seeing  Anne 
Bullen: 

Sweetheart, 

I  were  unmannerly  to  take  you  out 

And  not  to  kiss  you.* 

Foreigners  were  amazed  at  the  beauty  of  the 
women  and  their  learning.  "The  English  chal- 
lenge the  prerogative  of  having  the  handsomest 
women,  of  keeping  the  best  table,  and  of  being 
the  most  accomplished  in  the  skill  of  music  of  any 
people,"  wrote  the  same  Erasmus.^ 

Many  of  the  gentlewomen  had  "sound  knowl- 
edge of  Greek  and  Latin  and  were  skilful  in  Spanish, 
Italian,  and  French."  The  ladies  of  Elizabeth's 
court  translated  foreign  works  into  Latin  or  Eng- 
\\^,  and  for  recreation  practised  "lutes,  citherns, 
pricksong,  and  all  kinds  of  music."  "Argal"  the 
people  were  familiar  with  and  fond  of  music.     The 

*  King  Henry  VIII.,  Act  i,  Scene  4. 

^  Britanni,  prater  alia,  forman,  musicam,  et  lautas  mensas  pro- 
prie  sibi  vindicent.     (Erasmus,  Enconium  Moria.) 

66 


The  English  Virginalists 


professional  practitioners  outside  of  the  church 
were  still  looked  upon  as  vagabonds,  more  or  less, 
but  all  classes,  from  royalty  down  to  mendicancy, 
were  devoted  to  music.  Henry  VIII.,  being  a 
younger  son,  was  first  set  apart  for  holy  orders  (his 
youthful  eye  already  on  the  see  of  Canterbury),  and 
in  the  course  of  study  which  he  pursued  music  was 
obligatory.  Nevertheless,  his  inclinations  carried 
him  far  beyond  training  in  church  music  merely. 

-He  played  the  recorder,  flute,  and  virginal,  and  com- 
posed songs,  ballads,  and  church  services.  Anne 
Bullen  "doted"  on  the  compositions  of  Josquin  des 
Pres,  whom  Luther,  no  mean  authority,  esteemed 
higher  than  all  the  composers  that  had  ever  lived. 

:  Edward  VI.  made  personal  record  of  the  fact  that 
he  had  played  upon  the  lute  in  order  to  display  his 
accomplishments  to  the  French  ambassador  in 
1 55 1.  Elizabeth  was  so  vain  of  her  skill  as  a  per- 
former upon  the  virginal  that  she  planned  to  be 
overheard  by  Mary  Stuart's  ambassador.  Sir  James 
Melvil,  in  order  that  he  might  carry  the  news  to  the 
Scottish  queen.  She  played  "excellently  well," 
says  Sir  James — but  read  the  pretty  and  ingenuous 
story  in  his  memoirs. 

Gentlemen  with  a  polite  education  were  expected 
not  only  to  be  able  to  sing  pricksong  {i.  e.,  printed 
or  written  music)  at  sight,  but  also  to  extemporize 
a  part  in  harmony  with  a  printed  melody  or  bass. 
This  was  the  art  of  descant.    A  bass  viol,  Hke  the 

67 


The  Composers 


"viol  de  gamboys"  on  which  Sir  Toby  boasted  that 
his  friend  Aguecheek  could  play,  hung  in  the  draw- 
ing room  for  gentlemen  visitors  to  entertain  them- 
selves withal;  and,  if  called  upon,  they,  too,  must 
play  divisions  to  the  pricksong  which  my  lady  played 
upon  the  virginal.  The  cithern  and  gittern  hung 
on  the  walls  of  the  barber  shops,  and  the  virginal 
stood  in  the  corner,  so  that  customers  might  pass  the 
time  with  them  while  waiting,  or  the  barber  find 
solace  in  his  idle  moments.  "  Tinkers  sang  catches," 
says  Chappell,  "milkmaids  sang  ballads,  carters 
whistled;  each  trade  and  even  the  beggars  had  their 
special  songs."  In  his  "Sylva  Sylvarum"  Bacon 
left  a  scientific  discussion  of  music,  its  psychological 
effects,  the  nature  of  dissonance  and  consonance, 
and  the  character  of  the  instruments  most  in  use  in 
his  day;  Michael  Drayton  gave  a  complete  list  of 
the  instruments  in  use  at  the  time  in  his  "Poly- 
Olbion"  (1613);  Shakespeare  did  nothing  so  pro- 
saic, but  having  the  whole  field  of  musical  culture 
before  him — the  practice  of  the  people  as  well  as 
the  art  and  science  of  the  professional  musicians — 
he  opened  up  a  much  wider  and  clearer  vista  than 
did  my  Lord  Verulam  or  the  cataloguing  poet. 

The  era  in  question  was  the  most  briUiant  in  the 
history  of  England,  but  Shakespeare  has  preserved 
no  tribute  to  the  polite  art  of  the  day  comparable 
with  that  which  he  pays  to  the  popular  art  iii  the 
introduction  of  allusions  to  the  people's  songs  and 

68 


The  English  Virginalists 


dances  in  his  plays  or  the  songs  and  dances  them- 
selves.    These  songs  and  dances  were  the  staple 
of  the  group  of  organists  and  virginalists  who  form 
the   brightest   gem   in   England's   musical   crown. 
Though  clavier  music  was  composed  on  the  conti- 
nent as  early  as  it  was  in  England — the  historical    . 
record  going  much  further  back,  indeed — it  was' J 
nevertheless  in  England  that  the  earliest  known/ \ 
collections  of  compositions  for  keyboard-stringed 
instruments  were  made.     These  compositions  were 
nominally  written  for  the  virginal,  and  I  have,  there- 
fore, called  the  men  who  wrote  them  virginahsts 
rather   than   harpsichordists.     It   may   have   been 
only  an  amiable  affectation  which  made  the  Eng- 
lish composers  of  the  sixteenth  century  name  the 
virginal  as  the  instrument  for  which  their  music  was 
intended,  but  since  their  music  makes  no  demand 
for  the  mechanical  contrivances  applied  to  the  harp- 
sichord to  increase  its  expressive  capacity,  it  seems 
hkely  that  the  composers  really  had  in  mind  the  in- 
strument which  was  most  widely  diffused  among — 7 
the  people.     In  Pepys's  diary,  under  date  Septem-     / 
ber  2,  1666,  one  may  read,  in  his  description  of  the     j 
scenes  attending  the  Great  Fire:    "I  observed  that     1 
hardly  one  lighter  or  boat  in  three  that  had  the      * 
goods  of  a  house  in  but  there  was  a  paire  of  virginals 
in  it."     Plainly,  in  proportion  to  population,  vir- 
ginals were  as  plentiful  in  London  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years  ago  as  pianofortes  are  to-day. 

69 


The  Composers 


This  would  be  in  harmony  with  the  belief  that  I 
have  expressed  in  the  universality  of  musical  culture 
in  England  during  Shakespeare's  time  and  also  with 
the  sentimental  inclination  which  led  some  writers 
to  suppose  that  the  virginal  had  received  its  name 
from  the  circumstance  that  it  was  the  favorite  in- 
strument of  the  Virgin  Queen.  Unhappily  for  this 
pretty  theory  the  virginal,  commonly  spoken  of  at 
the  time  as  "virginals"  or  "a  pair  of  virginals,"  was 
known  by  the  name  before  Elizabeth  was  born. 

It  is  only  within  a  recent  period  that  study  of  a 
large  body  of  English  virginal  music  has  been  open 
to  students.  Until  the  publication  of  the  "Fitz- 
william  Virginal  Book,"  in  1899,  students  were  re- 
stricted practically  to  the  few  pieces  printed  in  the 
histories  and  the  collection  edited  by  E.  Pauer  and 
published  under  the  title  of  "  Old  English  Com- 
posers." The  scholarship  of  Mr.  J.  A.  Fuller  Mait- 
land  and  Mr.  W.  Barclay  Squire  has  now  given  one 
of  the  most  famous  of  musical  MSS.  to  the  world  in 
modern  notation.  The  manuscript  figured  in  mu- 
sical literature  for  a  century  as  "  Queen  Elizabeth's 
Virginal  Book,"  this  title  having  been  given  to  it 
under  the  belief  that  it  had  once  been  the  property 
of  the  Virgin  Queen.  Historical  investigation,  how- 
ever, dealt  harshly  with  this  amiable  delusion,  and 
since  its  publication  it  has  borne  the  name  of  the 
Fitzwilliam  Museum,  in  which  it  has  long  been 
housed.     It  is  a  veritable  thesaurus  of  the  best 

70 


The  English  VirginaHsts 


clavier  music  that  the  world  produced  in  the  six- 
teenth and  the  first  quarter  of  the  seventeenth  cent- 
uries. The  manuscript  is  a  small  folio  volume  of 
418  pages,  gilt  edged  and  bound  in  red  morocco, 
elaborately  tooled,  ornamented  with  fleurs-de-lis, 
and  otherwise  embellished.  It  contains  219  com- 
positions copied  by  the  same  hand.  The  editors 
are  inclined  to  the  belief  that  the  compiler  and  trans- 
criber was  one  Francis  Tregian,  who  did  the  work 
between  the  years  1608  and  1619,  while  an  inmate 
of  Fleet  Prison,  to  which  he  had  been  committed 
for  recusancy.  He  was  a  Papist,  like  his  father, 
who  sat  in  prison  twenty-four  years  on  account  of 
his  religious  beliefs.  It  was  the  discovery  that  some 
of  the  compositions  in  the  book  were  not  composed 
until  seventeen  years  after  Elizabeth's  death  which 
spoiled  the  pretty  story  that  the  book  had  belonged 
to  that  queen.  Among  the  composers  whose  works 
figure  in  the  book  are  Dr.  John  Bull,  William  Byrd, 
Thomas  Morley,  John  Munday,  Giles  Farnaby, 
William  Blitheman,  Richard  Farnaby,  Orlando 
Gibbons,  and  Thomas  Tallis. 

Other  valuable  manuscripts  collated  by  Dr.  Rim- 
bault  with  the  Fitzwilliam  manuscript  in  the  prepa- 
ration of  his  "Collection  of  Specimens  Illustrating 
the  Progress  of  Music  for  Keyed-Stringed  Instru- 
ments," printed  in  his  history  of  the  pianoforte, 
are  the  Mulliner  Virginal  Book,  the  Earl  of  Lei- 
cester's  Virginal   Book,   Lady   Neville's   Virginal 

71 


The  Composers 


Book,  and  two  manuscript  collections  which  I  judge 
to  belong  to  the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, now  preserved  in  the  New  York  Public  Libra- 
ry, Lenox  Foundation,  having  been  bought  by  the 
late  Joseph  W.  Drexel  at  the.  sale  of  Dr.  Rimbault's 
library  in  London  in  1877.  The  music  in  these 
manuscripts  is  written  on  staves  of  six  lines,  like 
that  of  the  Fitzwilliam  book.  Among  the  com- 
posers repesented  are  Orlando  Gibbons,  Christo- 
pher Gibbons,  Dr.  Bull,  Dr.  Rogers,  Albert  Byrne, 
Matthew  Locke,  Thomas  Tomkins,  J.  Cobb,  and 
P.  Phillips.  The  chief  source  of  knowledge  touch- 
ing English  virginal  music  outside  of  the  manu- 
script collections  in  the  seventeenth  century  was  a 
work  printed  in  1611,  entitled  "Parthenia."  It 
contained  music  written  by  Byrd,  Bull,  and  Or- 
lando Gibbons,  and  went  through  six  editions  within 
forty-eight  years,  during  which  time  (according  to 
Anthony  a  Wood)  it  was  "  the  prime  book  used  by 
Masters  in  Musick."  In  1847  it  was  reprinted 
under  the  auspices  of  the  Musical  Antiquarian 
Society,  Dr.  Rimbault  being  the  editor. 
_/The  variation  form  was  almost  exclusively  cul- 
tivated by  the  English  virginalists,  though  there  are 
evidences  of  novel  strivings  in  manner  as  well  as 
content  in  some  of  the  pieces  called  fantasias.  Thus, 
the  first  composition  of  John  Munday  (died  1630) 
in  the  Fitzwilliam  book  is  a  fantasia  in  which  an 
effort  is  made  to  delineate  a  series  of  meteorological 

72 


The  English  VirginaHsts 


changes.  Its  sections,  rhythmically  varied  and 
without  thematic  connection,  bear  the  inscriptions 
"Fair  Weather,"  ''Lightning,"  "Thunder,"  three 
times;  finally  there  comes  a  slow  concluding  move- 
ment section  marked  "A  Clear  Day."^ 

So,  too,  there  is  an  early  specimen  of  another 
style  of  programmatic  composition,  once  so  admired 

*  It  may  interest  the  curious  to  note  that  the  device  with  which 
Munday  attempts  to  suggest  lightning  is  not  unlike  in  idea  that 
which  Wagner  invented  for  the  same  purpose  more  than  two 
centuries  later,  as  will  appear  from  a  comparison  of  the  two 
phrases: 


Musical  Lightning  in  Munday's  Fantasia. 


Musical  Lightning  in  Wagner's  "  Walkure.' 
73 


The  Composers 


that  the  echoes  of  it  have  come  down  quite  to  our 
own  day,  in  a  piece  by  Wilham  Byrd,  which  is 
found  transcribed  in  Lady  Neville's  virginal  book 
and  twice  in  one  of  the  manuscripts  in  the  New 
York  Public  Library,  where  it  is  annotated  (evi- 
dently by  Dr.  Rimbault)  as  having  been  collated 
with  Dr.  Burney's  MS.  This,  which  seems  to  have 
been  as  popular  a  piece  in  its  day  as  its  successor, 
Kotzwara's  "  Battle  of  Prague,"  was  a  century  and 
a  half  later,  was  called  "  A  Battaille,"  sometimes  also 
"  Mr.  Byrd's  Battle."  It  is  a  compages  of  separate 
pieces  bearing  descriptive  titles,  as  follows:  "The 
Soldiers'  Summons,"  "The  March  of  Footmen," 
"The  March  of  Horsemen,"  "The  Trumpets," 
"The  Irish  March,"  "The  Bagpipes'  Drone," 
"The  Drums  and  Flutes,"  "The  March  to  the 
Fight,"  "The  Battles  Joined,"  "The  Retreat," 
"The  Victory,"  and  "The  Burying  of  the  Dead." 

Melodies  from  the  popular  songs  of  France  and 
Italy  (corresponding  to  the  canzone  Napolitane  and 
canzone  Francese  of  the  Venetian  organists)  were 
also  utilized  by  the  English  virginalists,  as  well  as 
church  melodies;  but  the  bulk  of  their  thematic 
material  was  drawn  from  the  popular  songs  and 
dances  of  the  day.  In  the  Fitzwilliam  book  we  find 
that  peculiarly  winsome  song  sung  by  the  clown 
in  the  roistering  scene  in  Shakespeare's  "Twelfth 
Night"  (Act  III.,  Scene  3),  beginning  "O  Mistress 
Mine,"  set  by  Byrd;  the  tune  called  "Hanskin"  to 

74 


The  English  Virginalists 


which  Autolycus  sings  "Jog  on,  jog  on,"  in  "A 
Winter's  Tale"  (Act  IV.,  Scene  2),  set  by  Richard 
Farnaby;  and  "Bonny  Sweet  Robin,"  one  hne  of 
which  poor,  distraught  Ophelia  sings  to  Laertes 
before  going  to  the  brook,  where  she  was  pulled 

from  her  melodious  lay 
To  muddy  death, 

set  by  Giles  Farnaby.  There,  also,  is  Byrd's  set- 
ting of  "The  Carman's  Whistle,"  the  song  which, 
in  all  hkehhood,  was  in  Shakespeare's  mind  when, 
in  having  Falstaff  descant  on  the  early  life  of  Jus- 
tice Shallow,  he  made  the  knight  say: 

He  always  came  in  the  rearward  of  the  fashion;  and  sung 
those  tunes  to  the  over-scutched  huswifes  that  he  heard  the 
carmen  whistle  and  sware  they  were  his  "fancies"  or  "his 
"good  nights."  * 

'  Scant  justice  has  been  done  to  this  music  by  the  German 
historians,  as  a  rule,  and  it  is  therefore  the  greater  pleasure  to  note 
the  laudable  exception  made  by  Dr.  Oscar  Bie,  who  waxes  en- 
thusiastic over  Byrd's  setting  of  "The  Carman's  Whistle"  and 
"Sellinger's  Round": 

"  'The  Carman's  Whistle,'"  says  Dr.  Bie,  "is  a  perfected  popu- 
lar melody,  one  of  those  tunes  which  will  linger  for  days  in  our 
ears.  At  the  beginning  of  the  third  and  fourth  bars  Byrd  sets  the 
first  and  second  bars  in  canon,  in  the  simplest  and  most  straight- 
forward style.  Next  come  harmonies  worthy  of  a  Rameau,  with 
the  most  delicate  passing  notes.  In  the  variations  certain  figures 
are  inserted  which  are  easily  worked  into  the  canonic  form,  now 
legato  with  the  charm  of  the  introduction  of  related  notes,  now 
diatonic  scales  most  gracefully  introduced,  now  staccato  passages 
which  draw  the  melody  along  with  them  like  the  singing  of  a  bird. 

75 


The  Composers 


Among  other  songs  I  mention  the  following  as 
figuring  more  or  less  extensively  in  the  writings  of 
the  poets,  dramatists,  and  essayists  of  the  time,  the 
melodies  of  which  are  preserved  for  us  in  the  music 
of  the  virginalists,  viz.:  " Walsingham,"  "Quod- 
ling's  Dehght,"  " Packington's  Pound,"  "Malt's 
Come  Down,"  "Why  Ask  You?"  "Go  from  My 
Window,"  "John,  Come  Kiss  Me  Now,"  "All  in  a 
Garden  Green,"  "Fain  Would  I  Wed,"  "Peascod 
Time,"  "Tell  Me,  Daphne,"  "Mall  Sims,"  and 
"Rowland."  The  popularity  won  on  the  conti- 
nent by  the  last  tune  is  quite  irreconcilable  with  the 
notion  of  the  historians,  a  notion  shared  with  his 

Finally  fuller  chords  appear,  gently  changing  the  direction  of  the 
theme.  From  first  to  last  there  is  not  a  turn  foreign  to  the  modern 
ear. 

"The  'Bellinger's  Round'  is  more  stirring.  Its  theme  is  in  a 
swinging  6-8  rhythm,  running  easily  through  the  harmonies  of  the 
tonic,  the  super-dominant  and  the  sub-dominant.  It  strikes  one 
like  an  old  legend,  as  in  the  first  part  of  Chopin's  Ballade  in  F 
major,  of  which  this  piece  is  a  prototype.  The  first  variation  re- 
tains the  rhythm  and  only  breaks  the  harmonies.  Its  gentle  fugali- 
zation  is  more  distinctly  marked  in  the  third  variation,  which  at 
the  conclusion  adopts  running  semi-quavers,  after  Byrd's  favorite 
manner,  anticipating  at  the  conclusion  of  the  one  variation  the 
motive  of  the  next.  The  semi-quavers  go  up  and  down  in  thirds, 
or  are  interwoven  by  both  hands,  while  melody  and  accompani- 
ment continue  their  dotted  6-8,  in  a  fashion  reminding  us  of  a 
Schumann.  In  the  later  variations  the  quaver  movement  is  again 
taken  up,  but  more  florid  and  more  varied,  with  runs  which  pursue 
each  other  in  canon.  This  piece,  perhaps  the  first  perfect  clavier 
piece  on  record,  which  had  left  its  time  far  behind,  was  written  in 
1580.'' 

76 


The  English  VirginaHsts 


predecessors,  even  by  Dr.  Bie,  that  the  influence 
of  the  Enghsh  school  of  virginahsts  was  short  lived 
and  confined  to  England.  Not  only  did  the  Eng- 
lish comedians  who  introduced  farces  sung  to  popu- 
lar tunes  in  Germany  and  Holland  set  the  fashion 
which  created  the  German  Singspiel,  they  also  ha- 
bilitated there  the  melodies  of  their  native  land. 
"Rowland,"  which  is  called  "Lord  Willoughby's 
Welcome  Home"  in  Lady  Neville's  virginal  book, 
became  the  Rolandston  to  which  scores,  probably 
hundreds,  of  erotic,  historical,  and  religious  songs 
were  written  in  Germany  and  the  Netherlands.  So 
the  "Cobbler's  Jig,"  "Fortune  My  Foe"  ("The 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  Act  III.,  Scene  3), 
"Greensleeves"  ("The  Merry  Wives,"  Act  II., 
Scene  i,  and  Act  V.,  Scene  5),  "Packington's 
Pound,"  "Mall  Sims,"  and  other  Enghsh  tunes 
were  known  all  over  the  continent,  where  in  the 
seventeenth  century  a  dozen  or  more  English  mu- 
sicians were  employed  in  high  positions  at  different 
courts.  Richard  Machin  was  at  the  court  of  the 
Landgrave  of  Hesse;  Thomas  Simpson  at  that  of 
Count  Ernest  HI.  of  Schaumburg;  Walter  Rowe, 
and  after  him  Walter  Rowe,  his  son,  were  in  the 
service  of  the  Elector  of  Brandenburg;  Valentine 
Flood  was  active  in  Berlin  and  Dantzic;  Wilham 
Brade  in  Berlin  and  Hamburg;  John  Stanley  in 
Berlin,  and  John  Price  in  Dresden.  All  these  men 
published  their  compositions  in  Germany. 

77 


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Part  of  a  page  from  "  Parthenia."     (See  page  72.) 


The  English  Virginalists 


The  English  school  was  known  and  respected 
on  the  continent  and  its  influence  felt.  Dr.  John 
Bull  (born  about  1563,  died  1628)  amazed  the 
cognoscenti  by  his  playing  at  the  courts  of  France, 
Spain,  and  Austria,  and  died  in  service  as  organist 
of  the  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame  at  Antwerp.  In 
the  course  of  his  career,  which  began  when  he  was 
nineteen  years  old,  he  was  organist  of  Hereford  Ca- 
thedral, member  of  the  Chapel  Royal,  recipient  of 
the  degree  of  Mus.  Doc.  from  both  Oxford  and  Cam- 
bridge universities,  professor  of  music  at  Gresham 
College  (for  which  post  he  was  recommended  by 
Queen  Elizabeth  herself  and  by  special  dispensa- 
tion was  permitted  to  read  his  lectures  in  English 
instead  of  Latin),  travelling  virtuoso  and  court 
musician  on  the  continent,  and  organist  at  Ant- 
werp. He  was  unquestionably  the  greatest  of  the 
musicians  who  extended  the  repute  of  England 
abroad,  but  he  was  not  without  companions.  Evi- 
dence of  his  digital  jfluency,  which  may  be  looked 
upon  as  the  equivalent  in  that  day  of  technical  pro- 
ficiency in  this,  is  found  in  his  proneness  to  write 
difficult  passages  for  both  hands  and  to  indulge  in 
profuse  ornamentation.  He  was  considered  a  mar- 
vel of  learning,  and  of  skill  in  composition  also,  as 
is  illustrated  by  the  tale  that  he  added  forty  new 
parts  to  a  composition  already  containing  forty. 
The  tale  sounds  fantastic  and  mythical  to  modern 
ears,  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  though  the 

79 


The  Composers 


infancy  of  the  instrumental  art  failed  to  show  the 
fact  in  anything  like  the  measure  disclosed  by  the 
vocal,  the  age  was  an  ingenious  and  scholastic 
one  when,  as  William  Mason,  precentor  of  York 
Cathedral  and  biographer  of  the  poet  Gray,  has 
said — 

there  were  Schoolmen  in  Music  as  well  as  in  Letters;  and 
when,  if  learning  had  its  Aquinas  and  Smeglecius,  music  had 
its  Master  Giles  and  its  Dr.  Bull,  who  could  split  the  seven 
notes  of  music  into  as  many  divisions  as  the  others  could  split 
the  ten  Categories  of  Aristotle. 

We  are  as  little  concerned  with  the  works  which 
Dr.  Bull  wrote  for  the  church  as  with  like  compo- 
sitions by  his  great  predecessor,  Tallis;  but  if  we 
wish  to  observe  him  in  a  wholly  amiable  mood  we 
need  only  hear  his  "King's  Hunting  Jigg,"  a  com- 
position in  which,  with  the  jubilant  vitality  of  its 
first  part  paired  with  the  jocund,  out-doorsy  flourish 
of  its  second,  I  find  more  of  the  modern  spirit  than 
in  any  score  of  the  programmatic  and  characteristic 
pieces  written  by  the  French  masters  who  came  a 
hundred  years  after  him.  Harsh  and  crude  are 
many  of  the  progressions  in  some  of  these  English 
pieces,  monotonous  the  repetition  of  rudimentary 
passage-work  in  the  variations,  but  their  value  as 
clavier  music  becomes  luminous  when  compared 
with  the  bulk  of  the  music  written  for  the  harpsi- 
chord in  the  same  period  on  the  continent. 

80 


The  English  VirginaHsts 


Thomas  Tallis  (perhaps  more  properly  Tallys, 
1527-1585)  plays  his  most  important  r61e  as  '"the 
father  of  English  cathedral  music"  and  the  teacher 
(and  business  associate  in  a  monopoly  of  music  print- 
ing and  the  sale  of  music  paper)  of  William  Byrd 
(1544  or  1 546-1 623).  Orlando  Gibbons  (1583- 
1625)  was  one  of  three  brothers  who  were  eminent 
in  their  day  in  the  cathedral  service,  and  the  father 
of  Dr.  Christopher  Gibbons  (161 5-1676),  who  was 
organist  of  Winchester  Cathedral,  the  Chapel 
Royal,  Westminster  Abbey,  and  private  organist  to  , 
Charles  II.  Byrd  seems  to  have  been  the  most  y\ 
popular  writer  of  virginal  music  in  his  time,  and 
his  pieces  outnumber  those  of  any  of  his  associates 
in  the  "Fitzwilliam  Virginal  Book."  His  closest 
competitor,  as  evidenced  by  that  standard,  was  Giles 
Farnaby,  who  bridged  over  the  sixteenth  and  seven- 
teenth centuries,  but  of  whom  next  to  nothing  is 
known.  Giles  Farnaby  is  represented  in  the  col- 
lection by  fifty-one  pieces  to  Byrd's  sixty-eight; 
Dr.  Bull  follows  with  forty-four,  Tallis  with  twenty- 
two,  and  then  comes  Peter  Phillips  with  nineteen. 
Phillips  was  a  Catholic  cleric  of  English  birth,  evi- 
dence of  whose  sojourn  in  Italy  and  on  the  conti- 
nent is  found  in  his  arrangements  of  melodies  by 
such  Italian  masters  as  Orlando  Lassus,  Luca  Ma- 
renzio,  Alessandro  Striggio,  and  Giulio  Romano. 
JVith  Dr.  John  Blow  (i 658-1 708)  and  Henry  Pur- 
cell  (1658-1695)  the  list  of  epoch-making  English 


The  Composers 


composers  may  be  said  to  have  ended,  though 
Mr.  Pauer  has  included  pieces  by  Dr.  T.  A.  Arne 
(1710-1778),  in  his  "Old  English  Composers." 
The  finest  fruit  of  Purcell's  creative  genius,  itself 
the  finest  product  of  England's  capacity,  was  given 
to  the  church  and  stage.  By  the  time  that  Pur- 
cell  won  the  headship  the  element  which  gave  the 
English  school  of  virginalists  its  most  national  and 
striking  characteristic — that  is,  English  folksong 
melody — had  been  abandoned  and  the  suite  of 
dance  forms  had  taken  its  place.  John  Playford, 
in  his  "  Introduction  to  the  Skill  of  Musick,"  said: 

Our  late  and  Solemn  Musick,  both  Vocal  and  Instru- 
mental, is  now  justled  out  of  Esteem  by  the  New  Corants 
and  Jigs  of  Foreigners,  to  the  grief  of  all  sober  and  judicious 
Understanders  of  that  formerly  solid  and  good  Musick:  nor 
must  we  expect  Harmony  in  People's  minds,  so  long  as  Pride, 
Vanity,  Faction,  and  Discords  are  so  predominant  in  their 
lives. 

This  deprecatory  comparison  of  the  present  with 
the  past  is  a  familiar  phenomenon  in  the  history  of 
music.  It  can  easily  be  traced  back  as  far  as  the 
time  of  Aristotle,  whose  pupil  Aristoxenus  could 
find  little  or  no  merit  in  the  music  of  his  age,  when 
he  pondered  on  what  music  had  been  when  the 
popular  taste  was  reflected  in  the  compositions  of 
^schylus,  Pindar,  and  Simonides;  and  I. shall  not 
be  surprised  if  this  review,  too,  runs  out  into  plaints 
against  the  hollowness  of  composers  of  this  latter 

82 


The  English  Virginalists 


day.  In  the  case  of  Playford,  however,  it  marks  the 
transfer  of  the  sceptre  of  supremacy  from  his  peo- 
ple to  another,  and  this  change  seemed  to  him  as 
woful  in  its  consequences  to  music  as  did  the  change 
in  the  style  of  dancing  (which  not  only  accompanied 
but  conditioned  it)  to  morals  and  decorum  to  John 
Selden.  In  his  "Table  Talk"  that  political  moral- 
ist found  time  to  deplore  the  change  which  had  come 
over  court  dancing  when  he  remembered  how  the 
gravity  and  stateliness  which  had  prevailed  during 
an  earlier  generation  had  given  way  to  the  boister- 
ousness  of  "Trenchmore"  (which,  according  to  Bur- 
ton, went  "over  tables,  stoves,  and  chairs")  and  the 
"  Cushion  Dance,"  which  might  best  be  likened  to 
a  rural  kissing  game  of  the  present  day.^ 

The  dance  music  written  down  in  the  books  of 
the  old  English  virginalists  belongs  to  the  period 
when  the  court  dance,  at  least,  was  still  full  of 
"state  and  ancientry."  It  consisted  chiefly  of 
pavans,  galliards,  and  allemands.  The  form  and 
movement  of  these  stately  dances  invited  the  florid 
figuration  and  canonic  imitations  which  had  been 
invented  for  the  ricercare  and  toccati  of  the  Venetian 
organists.  The  pavan  in  melody  and  movement 
was  as  solemn  and  even  lugubrious  as  a  covenant- 

*  "So  in  our  court,"  says  Selden,  "in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time, 
gravity  and  state  were  kept  up.  In  King  James's  time  things  were 
pretty  well.  But  in  King  Charles's  time  there  has  been  nothing 
but  Trenchmore  and  the  Cushion  Dance,  omnium  gatherum,  tolly 
polly,  hoite  cum  toity." — ("King  of  England.") 

83 


The  Composers 


er's  psalm  or  a  Chorale  of  the  German  church.  The 
favorite  dance  tune  of  Charles  IX.  of  France  was 
the  melody  to  which  Psalm  cxxix.  was  sung.  Full 
court  dress,  with  hat,  cloak,  and  sword,  was  de 
rigueur  with  men,  long  trains  with  women.  The 
dance  was  executed  as  a  majestic  procession,  like 
the  courtly  Polonaise  or  Fackeltanz  of  a  later  pe- 
riod. It  was  a  display  of  haughty  carriage  and 
gorgeous  raiment.  The  solemn  music  changed 
from  double  to  triple  rhythm  and,  quickened  in 
tempo,  became  a  galliard,  in  which  there  was  less 
show  of  dignity  and  composure  and  more  of  skill 
and  agility.  The  galliard  permitted,  if,  indeed,  it 
did  not  require,  more  or  less  vigorous  and  fantastic 
caperings.^ 

"Every  pa  van  has  its  galliard,"  says  a  Spanish 
proverb.  In  "Parthenia"  and  the  manuscripts  to 
which  I  have  referred  this  intimate  association  of 
the  two  dances  is  illustrated  in  a  melody  for  each 

'  A  few  lines  from  Shakespeare's  "Twelfth  Night"  as  an 
illustration: 

Sir  Tohy.     What  is  thy  excellence  in  a  galliard,  knight  ? 

Sir  Andrew.  Faith,  I  can  cut  a  caper  .  .  .  and  I  think  I  have 
the  back  trick  as  strong  as  any  man  in  Illyria. 

Sir  Tohy.  Wherefore  are  these  things  hid  ?  .  .  .  I  did  think, 
by  the  excellent  constitution  of  thy  leg,  it  was  formed  under  the 
star  of  a  galliard. 

Sir  Andrew.  Ay,  'tis  strong,  and  it  does  indifferent  well  in  a 
flame  colored  stock.     Shall  we  set  about  some  revels  ? 

Sir  Toby.  .  .  .  Let  me  see  thee  caper;  ha!  higher!  ha!  ha! — 
excellent!     (Act  I.,  Scene  3.) 


The  English  Virginalists 


galliard,  which  is  itself  only  a  variation  in  triple 
time  of  the  tune  of  the  preceding  pa  van.  "Pavan; 
Galliard  to  the  Pavan" — this  is  the  common  for- 
mula. When  Playford  wrote,  these  solemn  meas- 
ures with  their  variations  had  given  place  to  the 
suite  consisting  of  a  number  of  dance  melodies, 
some  stately  as  a  saraband,  some  lively  as  a  jig. 
In  Purcell's  music  we  find  suites  composed  of  a 
prelude,  alman  {the  alman  and  almain  of  the 
earlier  English  composers,  the  allemande  of  the 
French  and  German) ;  of  a  prelude,  courante,  sar- 
aband, chaconne,  and  sicihano;  of  a  prelude,  al- 
mand,  courante,  saraband  cebell  (gavotte),  minuet, 
riggadoon,  intrada,  and  march,  and  so  on.  Insular 
and  continental  tastes  are  met,  and  the  people  who 
by  taste  and  training  are  best  fitted  to  set  the  pegs 
for  the  new  fashion  become  the  arbiters  for  the  time 
being  of  the  polite  world.  With  the  instrumental  art 
secularized  in  tone  and  purpose  and  emancipated 
from  the  vocal  forms,  the  French  naturally  acquired 
great  importance  in  its  practice.^ 

*  I  yield  to  the  temptation  to  offer  here  a  curious  contribu- 
tion to  a  vexatious  problem  in  musical  terminology.  In  the 
country  districts  of  the  eastern  portion  of  the  United  States  a 
figure  in  a  lively  square  dance  is  variously  "alleman,"  "eleman," 
and  "alement,"  the  pronunciation  evidently  depending  much  upon 
the  taste  and  fancy  of  the  pronouncer.  The  question  raised  by 
this  is  whether  or  not  we  have  here  a  survival  of  a  dance  which 
long  ago  fell  into  disuse  in  the  Old  World.  The  allemande  was  a 
popular  dance  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  also  found  favor  in 
the  court  of  Louis  XIV.,  because,  it  is  said,  being  little  else  in  its 

85 


The  Composers 


performance  than  a  German  waltz  with  figures,  it  was  supposed  to 
symbolize  the  union  of  Alsace  with  France.  But  as  a  popular  dance 
the  allemande,  which  survived  in  a  musical  form  in  the  partitas  and 
suites  of  the  eighteenth  century,  died  in  the  seventeenth.  Accord- 
ing to  Arbeau's  "Orchesographie"  (1588)  it  was  a  dance  of  Ger- 
man origin,  as  its  name  implies,  which  was  a  sort  of  procession 
of  couples  holding  hands.  Steevens,  in  a  note  on  "Hamlet," 
quotes  some  one  as  saying:  "  We  Germans  have  no  changes  in  our 
dances.  An  almain  and  an  upspring,  that  is  all."  In  portions 
of  New  York  State  the  command,  "Alleman!"  is  carried  out  by 
the  dancers  "swinging  corners." 


86 


VI 

French  and  Italian  Clavecinists 

FOR  two  hundred  years  after  dancing  had  be- 
come the  most  poHte  of  polite  arts  it  was 
swayed  by  the  gay  and  gallant  court  of  France. 
When  Catherine  de  Medici  came  to  Paris  the  in- 
fluence of  her  native  Italy — splendor-loving,  pleas- 
ure-loving Italy — was  already  at  work.  It  had 
long  been  nourished  by  the  sun  of  the  renaissance, 
which  had  revived  the  pantomimes  and  spectacular 
shows  of  the  ancient  Romans  with  all  their  gaudy 
paraphernalia.  At  the  courts  of  the  great  ones  of 
Italy,  of  the  Estes  and  Medicis,  in  the  palaces  of 
popes  and  cardinals,  there  had  grown  up  and  been 
humored  with  extravagant  generosity  those  panto- 
mimic and  musical  entertainments  in  which  the 
virtues  of  the  noble  patrons  of  art  were  celebrated 
by  allegories  and  paraphrases  of  the  beautiful  fables 
of  classical  antiquity.  In  these  entertainments 
music  played  an  important  part;  but  for  long  it 
was  music  which  in  form  and  spirit  failed  to  meet 
any  requirement  of  the  dramatic  art  or  to  echo  a 
single  sound  from  the  voice  of  romanticism  which 
spoke  in  the  songs  and  dances  of  the  plain  people. 

87 


The  Composers 


The  predominant  position  which  the  dance  oc- 
cupied among  the  pohte  diversions  of  the  aristoc- 
racy of  Italy  and  France  during  the  sixteenth, 
seventeenth,  and  eighteenth  centuries  must  be  kept 
in  view  if  the  significance  of  the  French  school  of 
clavecinists  and  its  successors  in  Germany  is  to  be 
understood.  Three  hundred  years  ago  nobody 
thought  the  dance  beneath  his  dignity.  The  most 
august  members  of  the  Council  of  Trent,  the  princes 
of  the  church,  cardinals,  bishops,  abbots,  and 
priests  danced  at  the  ball  given  in  honor  of  Philip  II, 
of  Spain,  in  1562.  Dancing  in  the  churches  (a  cus- 
tom of  vast  antiquity)  endured  in  France  until  pro- 
hibited by  decree  of  the  Paris  Parliament,  in  1667. 
It  still  survives  in  Seville.  It  was  a  priest,  Jehan 
Tabourot,  who  wrote  that  famous  treatise  on  the 
dances  of  the  sixteenth  century  known  as  Arbeau's 
"  Orchesographie."  Cardinal  Richelieu  tricked 
himself  out  like  a  merry  andrew,  with  green  velvet 
breeches  and  bells  on  shoes,  rattled  his  castanets  as 
he  danced  a  saraband  for  the  delectation  of  Anne 
of  Austria.  It  is  written  that  for  twenty  years 
Louis  XIV.  took  a  daily  dance  lesson  from  Beau- 
champs.  Under  a  ministerial  decree  issued  in  his 
reign  (1669),  members  of  the  nobility  were  per- 
mitted to  perform  at  the  opera  for  hire  without 
loss  of  dignity,  and  even  to  follow  dancing  as  a 
means  of  livelihood. 

Don  Juan  of  Austria,  when  Viceroy  of  the  Neth- 


JEAN    PHILLIPPE    RAMEAU. 


French  and  Italian  Clavecinists 

erlands,  went  incognito  from  Brussels  to  Paris  to  see 
Marguerite  of  Valois  dance  a  minuet.  Moliere, 
Lully,  and  Quinault  devoted  a  portion  of  their 
genius  to  the  invention  of  ballets,  a  species  of  en- 
tertainment so  popular,  even  before  female  dancers 
had  been  admitted  to  the  stage,  that  no  fewer  than 
eighty  of  them  were  brought  out  at  the  Opera  in 
the  year  1610.  Catherine  de  Medici  not  only  in- 
troduced heroic,  comic,  gallant,  and  allegorical 
ballets  in  which  the  princes  and  nobles  of  the  French 
court  masqueraded  as  apes,  bears,  ostriches,  and 
parrots;  she  also  supplemented  the  grave  and  sol- 
emn low  dances  {danses  basses),  like  the  pa  van  and 
branle,  with  brisk  Italian  dances,  like  the  galliard 
and  volta.  In  the  old  dances  modesty  of  apparel 
was  paired  with  decorum  in  bearing,  but  in  the  new 
the  gentlemen  had  to  caper,  the  ladies  wear  skirts 
short  enough  to  permit  the  movements  of  their  feet 
to  be  seen  and  allow  themselves  to  be  swung 
bodily  over  the  hips  of  their  partners. 

A  love  for  variety  of  movement,  rhythm,  melody, 
and  color  having  been  created,  it  was  stimulated  by 
the  introduction  into  the  ball-room  and  on  the  stage 
of  the  people's  dances.  The  saraband  was  im- 
ported from  Spain,  the  passepied  from  Bas  Bre- 
tagne,  the  bourree  from  Auvergne,  the  tambourin 
and  rigaudon  from  Provence,  the  gavotte  from 
Dauphine.  These  dances  were  performed  in  the 
costumes  habitual  to  the  various  provinces,  and  to 


The  Composers 


the  music  of  provincial  instruments.  At  one  of 
Catherine's  balls  hautboys  played  for  the  dances  of 
Burgundy  and  Champagne,  violins  for  those  of 
Brittany,  the  large  Basque  drum  marked  the  time 
for  the  Biscayans,  the  tambourine  and  flageolet  for 
the  Provencals,  and  the  bagpipe  for  the  people  of 
Poitou. 

Here  we  have  a  picture  of  French  music  and 
manners  to  place  face  to  face  with  our  Enghsh 
picture.  The  French  school  of  clavecinists  which, 
grew  up  under  the  influences  of  the  court  of  Louis 
XIV.  reflected  the  spirit  and  the  manners  of  that 
court.  It  was  characterized  by  the  gayety,  the 
grace,  and  the  rhythmical  incisiveness  of  the  dance. 
It  led  to  the  perfection  of  the  suite,  the  highest 
formal  expression  of  the  clavier  art  down  to  the 
close  of  the  old  regime  by  the  German  giants, 
Bach  and  Handel.  It  came  a  full  century  after  the 
English  school,  and  reached  its  culmination  within 
a  single  generation;  whereas  the  English  school 
compassed  over  a  hundred  years.  It  marked  the 
climax  of  a  tendency  without  illustrating  the  steps 
in  its  development.  It  was  gentle,  gracious,  and 
affected  where  the  English  was  rugged,  virile,  and 
straightforward.  For  our  purposes  it  may  be  said 
to  have  begun  with  Jacques  Champion  (called  de 
Chambonnieres,  after  the  estate  owned  by  his  wife), 
and  culminated  in  Couperin  (surnamed  "the 
Great")  and  Rameau.     Its  fashions  were  followed 

90 


French  and  Italian  Clavecinists 

by  Franfois  Dandrieu  (i  684-1 740),  Jacques  Andre 
Dagincourt  (1684-175 — ?)  and  Louis  Claude  Da- 
quih  (1694-1772).  Chambonnieres  was  clavecin 
player  to  Louis  XIV.;  so,  too,  was  Francois  Cou- 
perin  (1668-1 733),  whose  father,  Charles  (died  1669), 
and  uncles,  Louis  (1630-1685)  and  Francois  (1631- 
1701),  had  preceded  him  in  the  post  of  organist 
at  the  Church  of  St.  Gervais. 

The  chief  importance  of  Jean  Philippe  Rameau 
(1683-1764)  rests  on  his  having  laid  the  foundations 
of  the  modern  system  of  harmony;  but  his  operas 
and  ballets  made  him  the  idol  of  the  French  people, 
and  a  few  of  his  compositions  for  the  harpsichord 
have  come  over  into  the  pianoforte  repertory  of  to- 
day. He  is,  indeed,  oftener  heard  than  Couperin, 
who  is  generally  set  down  in  the  books  as  the  head 
of  the  old  French  school.  Rubinstein  paid  a  much 
higher  tribute  to  Rameau  than  to  Couperin  in  his 
historical  lecture  recitals  given  in  St.  Petersburg  in 
1888  and  1889.  In  fact,  Rubinstein  was  disposed 
to  value  the  Couperin  who  is  called  "the  Great" 
less  highly  than  the  Couperin,  his  uncle,  who  was 
plain  Louis.  Rameau  is  more  modern  than  Cou- 
perin— much  more  modern  than  is  indicated  in  the 
difference  between  their  birth  and  death  dates. 
Couperin's  pieces  are  predominantly  two- voiced; 
Rameau's  predominantly  three.  Rameau,  more- 
over, indulges  freely  in  chords  and  arpeggios,  and 

91 


The  Composers 


betrays  an  appreciation  of  broad  effects.  "Many 
of  his  modulations  are  as  profoundly  conceived  as 
those  of  Beethoven  and  Schumann,"  says  Rubin- 
stein, Conscious  of  the  awakening  demand  for 
sonority  and  richness  of  tone,  he  sought  to  supply 
it  even  at  the  cost  of  pure  consonance. 

Comparatively  a  small  number  of  compositions 
written  by  the  French  clavecinists  other  than  Cou- 
perin  are  open  to  the  study  of  ordinary  amateurs. 
Among  those  which  have  lived  in  the  affections  of 
musical  antiquaries  because  of  their  puissant  beauty 
are  Rameau's  "Le  Rappel  des  Oiseaux,"  "La 
Poule"  (a  fascinatingly  ingenious  piece  built  on  a 
theme  which  imitates  the  cackling  of  a  hen),  "Les 
tendres  Plaintes"  (most  gracious  and  winning  in  its 
melody),  "L'Egyptienne,"  "La  Timide,"  "Les 
Soupirs,"  "La  Livri,"  and  "Les  Cyclops";  Dan- 
drieu's  "Les  tendres  Reproches,"  and  Daquin's 
dainty  "Le  Coucou"  and  "L'Hirondelle."  Cou- 
perin  is  in  a  vastly  different  case.  Between  17 13 
and  1730  he  pubhshed  four  books  of  "Pieces  de 
Clavecin,"  containing  no  less  than  236  composi- 
tions; and  all  but  a  trifling  fraction  of  these  have 
been  edited  with  painstaking  care  by  Brahms  and 
Chrysander  and  published  in  London  (Augener) 
as  well  as  in  Germany.  Couperin  did  not  call  his 
sets  of  pieces  suites,  but  ordres.^^^e  did  not  confine 
yhimself    to    the    conventional    sequence — I.,   alle- 

92 


French  and  Italian  Claveclnists 

mande;  II.,  courante;  III.,  saraband;  IV.,  gigue, 
with  the  occasional  interjection  of  a  gavotte,  passe- 
pied,  branle,  minuet,  bourree,  etc. — but,  preserving 
key  relationship  (changing  from  major  to  relative 
or  parallel  minor  and  vice  versa),  as  an  external 
tie  between  the  members  of  his  sets,  he  cultivated 
contrast  and  interchange  of  mood. 

Mixed  in  with  pieces  bearing  the  simple  names  of 
the  different  orders  of  dances  were  others  to  which 
he  gave  all  manner  of  fanciful  titles.  Here,  for 
instance,  is  the  list  of  pieces  which  make  up  the 
first  ordre  of  his  first  book:  Allemande  I'Auguste, 
premiere  Courante,  seconde  Courante,  Sarabande 
la  Majestueuse,  Gavotte,  Gigue  la  Mylordine,  Men- 
uet,  Les  Sylvains,  Les  Abeilles,  La  Nanette,  Sara- 
bande des  Sentimens,  La  Pastorelle,  Les  Nonnettes, 
Gavotte  la  Bourbonnoise,  La  Manon,  L'Enchant- 
eresse,  La  Fleurie,  Les  Plaisirs  de  St.  Germain  en 
Laye. 

He  has  a  whole  gallery  of  portraits:  Nanette, 
Manon,  Antoinine,  Babet,  Angelique,  La  Couperin; 
another  of  temperaments,  moods,  and  characters: 
La  Prude,  La  Diligente,  La  Voluptueuse,  La 
Tenebreuse,  La  Flateuse,  La  Dangeureuse,  L'ln- 
sinuante.  La  Seduisante;  an  Olympian  stageful 
of  mythological  creatures:  Sylvains,  Bacchantes, 
Graces,  Corybantes,  Diane,  Terpsichore,  Hymen, 
Amor.     Bees  and  gnats  buzz  and  hum  in  some 

93 


The  Composers 


pieces,  butterflies  flutter  and  birds  sing,  even  an 
amphibian  drags  his  slow  length  through  a  solemn 
passacaille.  Nuns,  shepherds,  pilgrims,  sailors, 
harvesters,  and  spinners  are  dehneated,  so  far  as 
may  be,  by  imitative  hints  at  the  sounds  made  by 
them  in  the  pursuit  of  their  vocations.  Nothing,  in 
fact,  is  too  insignificant  so  its  name  awaken  an 
image  in  the  fancy  which  may  be  associated  with 
the  movement  or  mood  of  the  music — not  even  a 
scarf  with  flying  ends  ('*Le  Bavelet  flottant"). 

The  court  allegories  and  ballets  provide  hints  for 
further  bits  of  musical  dehneation,  as,  for  instance, 
in  "Les  Folies  Franjaises,  ou  les  Dominos,"  where 
we  find  impersonations  of  Maidenhood,  Shame, 
Ardor,  Hope,  Fidelity,  Perseverance,  Languor, 
Coquetry,  Jealousy,  Frenzy,  and  Despair  dancing 
in  dominos  of  appropriate  colors — a  premonition  of 
the  "  Carnaval"  which  was  to  come  with  Schumann. 
But,  however  the  little  piece  might  be  intituled,  it 
was  a  dance  in  form  and  movement — its  periods  and 
sections  rigorously  measured  off,  its  melody  and 
bass  moving  along  in  gracious  union  and  with  many 
a  pretty  courtesy,  one  to  other,  linked  together  by 
an  occasional  chord.  Adorned  like  the  ladies  of 
Louis's  court  are  these  pieces,  overcrowded  with 
embellishments,  full  of  "nods  and  becks  and 
wreathed  smiles";  and  when  the  harmonies  spread 
out  at  the  cadences  we  cannot  but  yield  to  the 
94 


French  and  Italian  Clavecinists 


fancied  image  of  a  grande  dame  in  Louis's  court 
sinking  low  with  ineffable  grace  as  she  receives 
the  conge  of  the  King: 


To  erect  a  platform  of  observation  which  may 
prove  useful  it  can  now  be  said,  broadly,  that  down 
to  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century  all  com- 
posers for  keyed  stringed  instruments  were  church 
musicians.  The  traditions  of  the  fifteenth  century 
were  enduring  until  the  emancipation  of  instru- 
mental music  from  the  vocal  style  was  complete. 
It  is,  therefore,  not  surprising  that  when  we  take 
up  the  story  of  Italian  clavier  music  where  it  was  left 
when  the  English  school  appeared  upon  the  scene 
we  find  ourselves  back  again  among  the  great  or- 
ganists of  the  land  that  has  been  called  the  cradle 
of  music.  The  most  brilliant  achievements  of  the 
old  organists  of  St.  Mark's,  in  Venice,  were  eclipsed 

95 


The  Composers 


by  Girolamo  Frescobaldi  (1588-1645?),  a  native  of 
Ferrara  who,  after  he  had  studied  in  his  native 
land  and  practised  his  art  in  Antwerp,  found  that 
so  wondrous  a  renown  had  preceded  him  to  Rome 
that  twenty-five  thousand  persons  attended  his  first 
performance  in  St.  Peter's.  This  was  in  1614,  and 
the  next  year  he  was  appointed  organist  at  the 
great  church. 

In  the  course  of  the  twenty  years  following  several 
collections  of  his  works  were  published  in  Rome 
and  Venice.  They  were,  like  the  works  that  had 
preceded  them,  ricercare,  canzone,  fantasie,  capricci, 
etc.,  and  some  of  them  were  stated  to  be  equally 
adapted  for  voice  or  instrument  or  to  be  played  on 
the  organ  or  cembalo.  The  meaning  of  this  is  that 
they  preceded  the  invention  of  a  real  clavier  style. 
This  began  to  disclose  itself  in  the  compositions  of 
Bernardo  Pasquini  (1637-1710),  a  Tuscan.  He 
had  studied  with  Antonio  Cesti,  an  opera  writer, 
and  the  effect  of  the  monodic  school's  use  of  the 
keyed  stringed  instruments  in  the  harmonic  sup- 
port of  the  airs  in  the  dramma  per  miisica  may 
have  had  something  to  do  with  his  advancement 
of  the  art  of  clavier  composition.  Rubinstein 
thought  that  Pasquini's  significance  was  not  less 
than  that  of  Couperin's  and  Rameau's.  He  was 
the  recipient  of  great  honors  in  Florence,  Vienna, 
and  Paris,  and  the  classic  legend  "S.  P.  Q.  R." 
was  carved  on  his  tombstone   to  testify  that  he 

96 


French  and  Italian  Clavecinists 

had   been    organist    to   the   senate  and  people  of 
Rome. 

The  ItaHan  school  of  this  period  found  its  cul- 
mination in  Domenico  Scarlattf  (1683-1757),  son  of 
Alessandro  Scarlatti  (founder  of  the  Neapolitan 
school  of  opera)  and  pupil  of  Pasquini  in  organ  and 
harpsichord  playing.  Scarlatti  was  so  great  an  ad- 
mirer of  Handel  that  he  followed  him  from  Venice 
to  study  his  methods.  He  stayed  ten  years  in 
Rome,  where  he  became  chapelmaster  of  St.  Peter's, 
and  there  was  no  corner  of  Europe  to  which  his 
fame  as  composer  and  player  did  not  penetrate. 
In  1720  he  was  cembalist  at  the  opera  in  London 
and  saw  the  production  of  his  opera  "Narcissus." 
He  was  a  voluminous  writer  of  pieces  for  the  organ 
and  clavier,  and  is  frequently  spoken  of  as  the  in- 
ventor of  the  sonata.  The  works  which  he  wrote 
under  this  title  (the  Abbate  Santini  collected  349  of 
them)  are,  however,  not  sonatas  in  the  sense  of 
to-day,  though  they  foreshadow  the  modern  form 
in  the  contrasting  mood  of  their  principal  themes 
and  the  key  relationship  in  which  the  themes  are 
presented.  They  are  modern,  too,  in  the  firmness 
with  which  the  major  and  minor  modes  are  kept  in 
view,  as  distinguished  from  the  old  ecclesiastical 
modes,  their  brilliant  passage  work,  broken  chords 
in  contrary  motion,  repetition  of  single  notes  by 
different  fingers,  and  other  indications  of  virtuosity. 
The  two  sonatas  in  G  and  E  major  adapted  for 

97 


The  Composers 


the  pianoforte  by  Carl  Tausig,  entitled  "Pastorale" 
and  "Capriccio,"  have  much  grace  and  animation, 
but  are  as  purely  objective,  formal,  and  soulless  in 
their  musical  content  as  any  other  compositions  of 
their  epoch.  Scarlatti,  indeed,  did  not  aim  at 
emotional  expression.  "Amateur  or  professor, 
whoever  thou  art,"  said  he  in  the  preface  to  a  col- 
lection of  his  sonatas,  "seek  not  in  these  sonatas 
for  any  deep  feehng.  They  are  only  a  frolic  in  art, 
intended  to  increase  thy  confidence  in  the  clavier." 

Apropos  of  Scarlatti's  sonatas  I  find  a  singular 
blunder  in  Rubinstein's  St.  Petersburg  lectures. 
"  Scarlatti  wrote  many  sonatas  for  the  clavicembalo, 
as  well  as  the  less  cantabile  clavichord.  He  prob- 
ably played  two  instruments.  He  played  the  An- 
dantes on  the  clavicymbal,  the  brilliant  movements 
on  the  clavichord."  The  names  of  the  instruments 
should,  of  course,  be  reversed.  The  clavichord  was 
capable  of  a  singing  tone;  the  harpsichord  was  not, 
for  reasons  which  I  have  tried  to  point  out.  It 
seems  strange  that  Rubinstein  should  have  erred 
here,  but  even  Dr.  Oscar  Paul  seems  to  have  been 
ignorant  of  the  mechanism  of  the  clavichord  when 
he  wrote  his  "  Geschichte  des  Claviers." 

For  most  of  the  music  of  the  Italian  composers 
of  this  period  students  are  thrown  largely  upon 
historical  works.  Scarlatti's  sonatas  are  plentiful 
enough;  Haslinger  published  two  hundred  of  them, 
edited  by  Czerny,  in  1839;   Breitkopf  &  Hartel's 

98 


DOMtMCU    ^CAkLAril. 


French  and  Italian  Clavecinists 

catalogue  contains  sixty  and  Kistner's  thirty.  An 
excellent  collection  of  a  later  date  contains  twenty- 
four  pieces  in  eight  suites,  edited  and  fingered  by 
Alessandro  Longo.  Of  Frescobaldi's  works  a  ca- 
priccio  is  published  in  Rimbault's  history  and  a 
canzone  in  sesto  tono  in  Weitzmann's  "  Geschichte  des 
Clavierspiels."  Weitzmann  also  prints  sonatas  by 
Pasquini,  Francesco  Durante  (1684-17 5 5),  and  Pier 
Domenico  Paradies  (17 10-1792).  In  his  "Alte 
Claviermusik"  (Leipsic,  Bartholf  Senff)  Pauer  pub- 
lishes a  canzona  and  corrente  by  Frescobaldi,  two 
fugues  by  Antonio  Nicolo  Porpora  (i 685-1 767),  a 
sonata  by  Baldassare  Galuppi  (i 706-1 785),  a  ga- 
votte and  ballet  by  Giovanni  Battista  Martini 
(i 706-1 784),  and  a  sonata  by  Paradies.  "The 
Golden  Treasury  of  Piano  Music,"  five  volumes, 
published  by  Schirmer,  New  York,  is  a  fine  and 
serviceable  collection  of  harpsichord  pieces  of  the 
sixteenth,  seventeenth,  and  eighteenth  centuries. 


99 


VII 

The   German  School — Bach  and  Handel 

IT  is  not  easy  to  form  a  clear  idea  of  what  the 
domestic  element  in  instrumental  music — the 
element  which  springs  first  to  mind  when  we  think 
of  pianoforte  music  to-day — was  like  in  the  Middle 
Ages.  To  us  the  pianoforte  represents  the  whole 
world  of  music  in  nuce;  stage  and  choir-loft  are 
charmed  by  it  into  the  intimacy  of  the  home  circle. 
But  the  clavier,  in  its  two  forms  of  tangential  (clavi- 
chord) and  quilled  (spinet,  virginal,  and  harpsi- 
chord) instrument,  did  not  assume  this  position 
until  long  after  the  work  of  developing  an  instru- 
mental art  had  begun.  The  pioneership  of  Eng- 
land in  this  work  has  already  received  recognition 
in  these  studies;  its  significance  lies  chiefly  in  the 
fact  that  in  that  country  the  supremacy  of  the  lute 
as  the  domestic  instrument  of  music  par  excellence 
was  overthrown  by  the  virginal  before  the  clavier 
had  gained  dominion  on  the  Continent. 

That  there  should  have  been  a  greater  number 
and  variety  of  instruments  in  popular  use  at  a  time 
when  instrumental  music  was  struggling  to  come 
into  existence  than  now,  when  it  has  forced  purely 


The  German  School— Bach  and  Handel 

vocal  music  out  of  the  churches  and  suffers  only 
the  mixed  form  to  stand  beside  it  on  the  concert 
platform,  is  anomalous.  The  vast  majority  of 
these  instruments,  however,  had  not  the  slightest 
influence  upon  musical  composition,  and  were  not 
designed  for  domestic  enjoyment.  Pratorius  cata- 
logues and  describes  a  hundred  of  them  in  his 
"Syntagma  Musicum,"  but  it  needs  only  a  glance 
at  his  plates  to  see  that  most  of  them  were  din  pro- 
ducers, against  which  private  doors  had  to  be  shut. 
With  all  their  number  and  variety,  moreover,  they 
did  nothing  to  advance  the  orchestral  art,  which 
returned  to  the  principle  of  a  combination  of  kind 
("consorts  of  viols"  and  the  like)  as  soon  as  the 
instrumental  language  had  been  freed  from  the 
vocal  idiom. 

In  a  twofold  manner  the  organ  was  the  inter- 
mediary between  the  music  of  ecclesiastical  or 
courtly  functions  and  the  home  circle.  Constructed 
on  a  small  scale,  the  instrument  itself,  under  the 
names  "positif,"  "regal,"  and  "organo  picciolo," 
made  its  way  into  cultured  houses.  Its  keyboard 
being  identical  with  that  of  the  clavier,  music  com- 
posed for  it  was  easily  transferred  to  that  instru- 
ment, whereas  the  lute  necessitated  the  employment 
of  a  notation  belonging  to  it  alone.  So  it  came  by 
the  operation  of  the  law  of  survival  that  the  favor- 
ite domestic  instrument  of  generations  of  musical 
amateurs,  omnium  instrumentorum   Prince ps,  the 


The  Composers 


nohilissimo  stromento,  the  Regina  instrumentorum 
upon  which,  by  the  exercise  of  an  incomprehensible 
skill,  all  the  demands  of  home  music  were  gratified, 
was  practically  supplanted  by  the  clavier  when  the 
time  for  clavier  music  was  come — that  is  to  say, 
toward  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century.  It  re- 
mained in  use  a  century  longer,  but  not  as  a  potent 
influence. 

There  are  a  number  of  German  names  which 
may  be  added  to  the  list  of  church  musicians  who 
became  famous  while  the  musical  current  flowed 
out  of  Italy  in  all  directions.  Hans  Leo  Hasler 
(1564-1612)  won  such  renown  in  the  service  of 
Rudolph  II.  that  that  emperor  ennobled  him. 
Christian  Erbach,  Hieronymus  Pratorius,  Adam 
Gumpeltzhaimer,  Melchior  Franck,  and  Samuel 
Scheidt  may  be  written  down  among  the  distin- 
guished musicians  of  the  early  period  on  the  testi- 
mony of  their  contemporaries.  Now  we  reach  the 
first  name  of  large  import — that  of  Johann  Jakob 
Froberger  (1637-1695).  He  carried  his  fame  and 
activities  as  far  westward  as  Dr.  Bull  had  done 
toward  the  East.  As  a  youth  he  was  sent  by  the 
Emperor  Ferdinand  III.  to  Rome  to  receive  in- 
struction from  Frescobaldi.  He  remained  three 
years  in  the  Holy  City,  went  thence  to  Paris,  thence 
to  Dresden,  and  then  returned  to  the  service  of  the 
Emperor  of  Germany.  In  1662,  according  to  the 
accepted  story  which  has  only  himself  for  authority. 


The  German  School— Bach  and  Handel 

he  got  a  leave  of  absence  and  set  out  for  England 
via  France.  The  tale  of  his  adventures  is  worth 
telling,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  that  it  throws 
a  certain  amount  of  light  on  a  kind  of  music  which 
he  and  his  contemporaries  cultivated  in  a  degree 
not  appreciated  in  this  latter  day.  He  says  he  was 
robbed  before  he  reached  Calais.  There  he  set  sail 
across  the  Channel,  but  fell  into  the  hands  of  pirates 
and  had  to  save  his  life  by  swimming. 

He  reached  the  English  shore  and  begged  his 
way  to  London.  Tattered  and  torn,  he  found  his 
way  to  Westminster  Abbey,  and,  loitering  in  the 
church  after  the  service,  met  the  organist— it  must 
have  been  Christopher  Gibbons — who  discovered 
him  while  locking  the  doors,  and  hired  him  to  blow 
the  organ.  At  the  wedding  of  Charles  H.  and 
Catherine  of  Portugal,  so  the  story  goes,  awed  by 
the  pomp  of  the  function,  he  neglected  his  duty, 
and  the  organ  stopped,  breathless.  Dire  were  the 
imprecations  poured  out  upon  the  head  of  the 
luckless  blower  by  the  organist,  who  promptly  dis- 
appeared into  an  adjoining  apartment  after  he, 
too,  was  breathless.  Then  Froberger  saw  his  op- 
portunity. Filling  the  bellows  he  rushed  to  the 
keyboard  and  began  to  play.  A  lady  of  Charles's 
court  who  had  been  in  Vienna  recognized  the  artist's 
manner.  He  was  summoned  into  the  presence  of 
the  king,  told  his  story  on  his  knees,  was  bidden  to 
rise,  a  clavier  was  hurriedly  brought,  and  for  an 

103 


The  Composers 


hour  by  the  dial  he  improvised  on  the  instrument 
to  the  delight  of  king  and  court.  Charles  gave  him 
a  necklace,  and  he  became  the  lion  of  the  hour.  He 
returned  to  Vienna  loaded  with  gifts  and  distinc- 
tions; but  calumny  had  preceded  him,  and  he  vainly 
sought  an  audience  with  the  emperor,  whose  mind 
had  been  poisoned  against  him. 

This  is  the  story,  and  it  is  surely  worthy  of  a 
modern  theatrical  press  agent.  An  organist  play- 
ing long  enough  with  a  single  inflation  of  the  bellows 
to  impress  his  individual  style  upon  a  casual  listener 
— that  detail  might  alone  have  served  to  arouse  sus- 
picion; but  if  it  did  not  why  have  not  the  English 
critics  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  Charles  11. 
was  not  married  in  state  at  Westminster,  but  pri- 
vately at  Portsmouth?  However,  Froberger  in  all 
likehhood  did  visit  London,  and  failing  of  rehabili- 
tation at  the  imperial  court  of  Germany  on  his  re- 
turn to  Vienna,  went  to  Mayence,  where  he  perished 
miserably  years  later.  Obviously,  he  was  a  brave 
raconteur  who  essayed  to  be  as  entertaining  in  his 
musical  anecdotes  as  in  his  verbal;  for  Mattheson, 
who  reports  the  London  story,  also  tells  of  hearing 
one  of  Froberger's  allemandes,  which  purported  to 
describe  in  musical  tones  incidents,  to  the  number 
of  twenty-six,  of  an  eventful  Rhine  journey — among 
others  how  a  passenger,  in  attempting  to  hand  his 
sword  to  the  skipper,  fell  overboard  and  was  struck 
on  the  head  with  a  pike  while  struggling  in  the  water, 

104 


The  German  School — Bach  and  Handel 

We  shall  hear  more  about  this  kind  of  music 
presently. 

Froberger  was  the  first  distinctively  great  Ger- 
man clavierist.  In  his  other  musical  activities  he 
had  a  colleague,  contemporary  and  compatriot  in 
Johann  Kaspar  Kerl  (1625-1690  or  1628-1693), 
who,  like  him,  was  sent  by  Ferdinand  III.  to  Rome 
to  study;  but  though  it  is  suspected  that  he,  too, 
availed  himself  of  Frescobaldi's  skill  and  learning, 
his  direct  purpose  was  to  study  under  Carissimi. 
Some  of  Kerl's  compositions  have  been  preserved 
for  the  modern  student,  but  to  English  readers  his 
name  is  likely  to  be  best  known  as  the  author  of  the 
melody  of  "Egypt  was  glad  when  they  departed," 
which  Handel  borrowed  for  his  "Israel  in  Egypt" 
from  one  of  Kerl's  toccatas.  George  Muffat  (died 
in  1704)  spent  six  years  in  Paris  under  the  influence 
of  Lully  and  Couperin,  and  is  said  to  have  trans- 
planted the  latter's  agremens  to  Germany.  His 
son,  Gottlieb  Muffat  (born  about  1690),  was  clavier 
teacher  to  the  family  of  Emperor  Charles  VI.  and, 
like  Kerl,  an  involuntary  contributor  to  Handel's 
oratorios. 

There  now  sprang  up  in  the  north  of  Germany 
a  group  of  organists  who  found  inspiration  in  the 
Protestant  Church  service  akin  to  that  which  had 
so  long  come  from  Rome.  In  this  service  there 
had  existed  from  an  early  period  an  element  of  ro- 
manticism borrowed  from  the  folksong  which  had 


The  Composers 


bound  itself  up  intimately  with  German  hymnology. 
Luther,  though  far  from  being  an  iconoclast,  was 
desirous  from  the  beginning  of  the  movement  which 
he  led  to  give  a  national  trend  to  the  music  of  the 
new  church — to  have  all  the  features  of  the  ser- 
vice German  in  spirit  and  German  in  manner.  It 
was  a  tendency  embodied  in  him  which  brought  it 
to  pass  that  in  Germany  contrapuntal  music  based 
on  popular  tunes,  like  that  of  the  Netherland  school, 
soon  developed  into  the  chorale  in  which  the  melody 
and  not  the  contrapuntal  integument  was  the  essen- 
tial thing.  In  the  hymns  and  psalms  which  Luther 
himself  sang  and  heard  the  borrowed  secular  melody 
was  almost  as  completely  buried  as  in  the  masses 
which  the  books  would  have  us  believe  scandalized 
the  church  before  the  coming  of  Palestrina.  The 
people  were  invited  to  sing  the  paraphrases,  it  is 
true,  and  to  sing  them  to  familiar  tunes  (later  in 
France  they  did  so,  and  with  a  vengeance,  some- 
times using  the  melodies  of  popular  dances  with 
the  versified  psalms  of  Marot),  but  the  choir's 
polyphony  practically  stifled  the  melody. 

Soon,  however,  the  free  spirit  so  powerfully  pro- 
moted by  the  Reformation  prompted  a  manner  of 
composition  in  which  the  admired  melody  was  lifted 
into  relief.  Now  the  monophonic  style  entered  so 
that  the  congregation  might  join  in  the  singing — a 
distinctly  romantic  step.  The  musicians  who  fell 
under  this  influence  were  the  direct  predecessors  of 

io6 


The  German  School — Bach  and  Handel 

the  great  Bach,  in  whom  the  polyphonic  style  cul- 
minated. Diedrich  Buxtehude  was  a  Dane  who 
attracted  so  much  attention  with  a  series  of  con- 
certs that  he  gave  for  years  at  Liibeck  that  Bach, 
then  nineteen  years  old,  walked  from  Arnstadt  to 
Liibeck — more  than  two  hundred  miles — to  hear 
them.  When  Buxtehude  grew  old  both  Matthe- 
son  and  Handel  went  from  Hamburg  and  reported 
themselves  as  candidates  for  his  position  as  or- 
ganist; they  fled  incontinently,  however,  when  they 
learned  that  one  of  the  conditions  attached  to  the 
post  was  that  the  new  organist  must  marry  the 
daughter  of  his  predecessor.  Some  of  Buxtehude's 
organ  music  may  yet  be  heard,  but  what  were  prob- 
ably the  best  of  his  clavier  compositions  seem  to  be 
irrevocably  lost.  They  were  a  set  of  seven  suites, 
in  which,  according  to  Mattheson,  "  the  nature  and 
properties  of  the  seven  planets  were  agreeably 
expressed." 

Johann  Pachelbel  (i 653-1 706)  was  native  of  Nu- 
remberg, and  died  there  as  organist  of  the  Church 
of  St.  Sebaldus,  having  spent  three  years  of  his 
early  career  in  Vienna  as  organist  of  the  venerable 
Church  of  St.  Stephen.  He  wrote  many  variations 
on  chorale  melodies,  publishing  a  group  of  four  in 
Erfurt  in  1683  under  the  title,  "Musical  Death 
Thoughts."  In  six  Bible  sonatas  by  Johann  Kuh- 
nau  (1667-1722)  we  find  the  programmatic  ten- 
dency,  which   is  daintily  illustrated   in  the  little 

107 


The  Composers 


dance  pieces  of  Couperin  and  Rameau,  carried  to 
an  extreme  which  would  be  laughable  were  we  not 
compelled  to  recognize  a  latter-day  reversion  to  the 
type  with  all  its  absurdities  in  the  symphonic  poems 
of  Richard  Strauss  and  his  disciples. 

Kuhnau  was  Bach's  predecessor  at  Leipsic,  and 
had  a  high  opinion  of  the  expressive  capacity  of 
music — if  words  were  brought  to  its  aid.  Sadness 
or  joy  in  the  abstract,  he  held,  could  be  expressed 
by  music  alone,  but  he  enlisted  words  when  he 
wished  a  distinction  drawn  between  the  lamenta- 
tions of  a  sad  Hezekiah,  a  weeping  Peter,  or  a 
mourning  Jeremiah.  He  was  a  stanch  believer  in 
the  helpful  potency  of  a  verbal  commentary,  and 
ingenious  in  his  defence  of  a  composer,  "a  cele- 
brated Electoral  Chapelmaster,"  whose  name  has 
not  got  into  the  records,  but  who  seems  to  have 
been  almost  as  subtle  as  Richard  Strauss.  This 
composer  had  written  a  piece  which  he  called  "  La 
Medica,"  in  which  he  described  the  groans  and 
whines  of  a  sick  man  and  his  relations  (not  forget- 
ting to  indicate  the  sex  of  the  latter),  the  chase  for 
a  doctor,  and  the  great  grief  of  all  concerned.  The 
piece  ended  with  a  gigue,  under  which  the  com- 
poser had  written:  "The  patient  is  making  favor- 
able progress,  but  has  not  quite  recovered  his 
health."  "At  this,"  said  Kuhnau,  "some  mocked, 
and  were  of  opinion  that  had  it  been  in  his  power 
the  author  might  well  have  depicted  the  joy  of  a 
io8 


The  German  School— Bach  and  Handel 

perfect  recovery.  So  far  as  I  could  judge,"  he 
goes  on,  "there  was  good  reason  for  adding  words 
to  the  music.  The  sonata  began  in  D  minor;  in 
the  gigue  there  was  constant  modulation  toward  G 
minor.  At  the  final  close  the  ear  was  not  satisfied, 
and  expected  the  closing  cadence  in  G.  There- 
fore the  patient  was  not  quite  well." 

Could  anything  be  clearer?  Certainly  not  to 
Kuhnau,  who  was  quite  as  clever  as  the  composer 
of  "  La  Medica"  in  the  invention  of  devices  to  make 
music  explicit.  One  of  his  "Biblische  Historien" 
tells  the  story  of  Gideon,  the  saviour  of  Israel.  In 
this  story  Gideon  asks  God  to  give  him  a  sign  that 
He  would  save  Israel  by  his  hand;  he  would  put 
a  fleece  upon  the  floor,  and  if  on  the  morrow  it 
should  be  found  to  be  wet  with  dew  and  the  earth 
dry,  then  would  he  accept  it  as  the  desired  sign. 
And  it  was  so.  But  Gideon  was  unsatisfied  and 
wanted  another  test;  let  it  be  dry  now  only  upon 
the  fleece,  and  upon  all  the  ground  let  there  be  dew. 
And  God  did  so  that  night,  for  it  was  dry  upon 
the  fleece  only  and  there  was  dew  on  all  the  ground. 
The  composer  of  the  "Pastoral  Symphony"  might 
have  been  stumped  by  the  task  of  setting  such  a 
complicated  phenomenon  to  music;  not  so  Kuhnau. 
He  introduced  a  theme  to  represent  the  dewy  fleece 
and  the  dry  ground,  and  then  wrote  it  backward  to 
represent  the  dewy  ground  and  the  dry  fleece;  and 
the  thing  was  done. 

109 


/ 


/ 


The  Composers 


I  have  now  reached  the  two  men  in  whom  the 
polyphonic  school  found  its  culmination  and  in 
whose  lifetime  the  pianoforte  came  to  the  fore, 
though  too  late  and  too  timidly  to  influence  the  style 
of  writing  or  the  manner  of  performance.  They 
are  Georg  Friedrich  Handel  (1685-1759)  and  Jo- 
hann  Sebastian  Bach  (1685-17 50).  Before  record- 
ing their  labors,  however,  or  commenting  on  the 
character  of  their  compositions,  I  shall  venture  to 
bring  them  into  juxtaposition  for  comparison  in 
order  to  make  it  plain  why  two  men  whose  names 
are  so  intimately  associated  in  musical  history  and 
who,  in  common  and  simultaneously,  mark  the 
highest  achievements  of  their  time,  yet  differ  so 
greatly  in  the  value  of  their  contributions  to  the 
art  whose  story  we  are  tracing.  All  creative  artists 
are  the  product  of  their  environment.  The  national 
traits  of  the  people  among  whom  and  for  whom 
Bach  and  Handel  labored  had  much  to  do  with 
fixing  the  character  of  their  music,  as  well  as  the 
degree  and  nature  of  the  influence  which  their  com- 
positions have  exerted.  Both  were  Germans  by 
birth,  but  before  they  reached  mature  manhood 
their  paths  in  life  were  widely  divergent.  Handel 
fell  into  the  current  of  Latinized  culture  which 
dominated  the  larger  cities  of  Germany  two  and  a 
half  centuries  ago  as  completely  as  it  did  Paris  and 
London.  He  was  the  son  of  a  surgeon,  went  to  a 
university,  and  became  familiar  with  the  humani- 


The  German  School— Bach  and  Handel 

ties.  He  met  the  grandees  of  various  courts  and 
was  patronized  by  them  as  a  prodigy  in  music. 
Their  influence  was  thoroughly  Latin.  When  he 
began  composing,  it  was  in  a  style  to  fit  the  taste 
of  the  polite  society  of  the  period.  He  connected 
himself  with  the  opera  at  Hamburg.  Everywhere 
save  in  Italy,  opera  was  at  the  time  a  monstrosity. 
It  had  sprung  from  the  efforts  of  Florentine  ama- 
teurs to  revive  the  classic  drama.  The  Germans 
had  tried  to  suit  the  entertainment  to  their  ruder 
tastes  and  harsher  language.  The  vernacular  came 
to  be  used,  and  the  discovery  was  made  that  Ger- 
man words  lent  themselves  but  ill  to  Italian  music. 
The  opera-books  were  built  on  classic  stories,  such 
as  were  utilized  in  Italy.  These  German  poetasters 
worked  over  into  mongrel  books,  half  German 
half  Italian,  and  the  composers  had  to  set  them 
according  to  rigid  formularies.  Handel's  first  opera, 
"Almira,"  contained  fifteen  Italian  airs  and  forty- 
four  German  songs. 

The  artistic  culture  which  tolerated  such  anoma- 
lies was  assuredly  debased  compared  with  that 
which  would  have  been  the  normal  outcome  of 
purely  German  tendencies.  The  Prince  of  Tus- 
cany heard  "Almira"  with  admiration,  and  offered 
to  take  the  composer  with  him  to  Italy.  Handel 
declined  the  generous  offer,  but  soon  after  set  out 
for  the  home  of  the  arts  on  his  own  responsibility. 
He   produced   an   Italian    opera,    "Rodrigo,"    in 


The  Composers 


Florence  and  "Agrippina"  in  Venice.  His  tri- 
umph was  complete.  Alessandro  Scarlatti  became 
his  devoted  friend  and  sincere  admirer,  and  the 
nobility,  resident  and  visiting,  showered  honors  and 
attentions  upon  him.  He  went  to  London,  com- 
posed operas,  managed  a  theatre,  bankrupted  him- 
self over  and  over  again,  and  finally,  compelled  by 
sheer  force  of  circumstances  and  in  the  bitterness 
of  disappointment,  struck  out  a  new  path  and 
became  the  master  of  the  fashion  to  which  thitherto 
he  had  been  a  slave. 

In  many  respects  the  career  of  Bach  was  the  very 
opposite  to  that  of  Handel.  He  was  a  child  of 
German  simplicity.  He  came  into  the  world  the 
repository  of  the  feelings,  beliefs,  and  aspirations 
of  a  line  of  musicians  extending  over  more  than  a 
century.  His  ancestors  were  church  and  town  ser- 
vants who  had  provided  sacred  and  secular  music 
for  Thuringia  so  long  that  the  family  name  became 
a  generic  term.  He  never  went  to  a  university  and 
never  enjoyed  the  privilege  in  his  youth  of  drawing 
on  such  a  clearing  house  of  the  world's  knowledge, 
beliefs,  and  speculations  as  had  honored  the  intel- 
lectual drafts  of  Handel.  He  travelled  little,  and 
seldom  came  in  contact  with  the  class  of  society 
whose  tastes  determined  the  early  career  of  Handel. 
At  eighteen  he  was  organist  at  Arnstadt,  at  twenty- 
two  organist  at  Miihlhausen.  He  accepted  a  post 
at  Weimar,  made  a  few  visits  to  neighboring  towns 


The  German  School— Bach  and  Handel 

and  cities  to  give  organ  concerts,  was  for  five  years 
chapelmaster  at  the  court  of  Anhalt-Cothen,  and 
thence  went  to  Leipsic,  and  became  cantor  of  the 
St.  Thomas  school  and  director  of  the  music  in  four 
of  the  churches  of  the  old  city. 

Thenceforward  his  activity  was  confined  to  the 
promotion  of  music  in  a  sphere  which,  while  it  was 
restricted  in  many  respects,  nevertheless  left  him 
free  to  develop  his  ideals  without  concern  touching 
his  livelihood.  He  could  build  on  the  solid  ground 
of  German  feeling,  and  was  not  obliged  to  watch 
the  shifting  whims  of  an  artificial  and  unnational 
culture.  If  we  had  not  the  works  to  prove  the 
accuracy  of  the  deduction,  we  could  yet  safely  ar- 
gue from  the  character  of  Bach's  domestic  and 
artistic  surroundings  that  his  compositions  would 
show  greater  ideality,  greater  profundity  of  learn- 
ing, greater  boldness  in  invention,  and  greater  va- 
riety of  form  than  those  of  Handel.  In  the  things 
which  were  dearest  to  him  he  could  work  either 
with  complete  indifference  to  the  caprices  of  the 
public  or  in  harmony  with  its  most  intimate  feelings. 

Bach  remained  a  German;  Handel  became  a 
cosmopolite.  Handel  went  to  Italy  to  learn  how 
to  write  for  the  human  voice.  He  went  to  Lon- 
don, and  under  stress  of  circumstances  abandoned 
dramatic  writing  and  took  up  oratorio.  His  style 
in  the  former  was  conventional;  in  the  latter,  not 
wholly  divorced  from  convention,  it  was  yet  orig- 

"3 


The  Composers 


inal.  In  the  former  he  composed,  as  we  now  know, 
chiefly  for  the  day  in  which  he  wrote;  in  the  latter 
he  composed,  as  the  phrase  goes,  for  all  time.  In 
both  forms  the  human  voice  was  the  chief  vehicle 
of  expression. 

'l  Bach  came  of  a  race  of  instrumentalists.  He 
was  unequalled  as  an  organ  and  clavichord  player;  ^ 
a  master  of  the  technical  part  of  violin  playing;  he 
knew  thoroughly  the  structure  of  the  organ;  was 
the  inventor  of  the  viola  pomposa  (an  instrument 
which  occupied  a  place  midway  between  the  viola 
and  violoncello) ;  he  combined  the  clavier  and  lute 
into  an  ingenious  keyed  instrument,  and  if  he  did 
not  invent  a  method  of  tuning  the  clavier  in  equal 
temperament,  he  at  least  demonstrated  that  it  could 
and  ought  to  be  so  tuned,  and  fixed  his  demon- 
stration for  all  time  with  one  of  his  most  charming 
and  vital  works,  "The  Well  Tempered  Clavichord-'H 
The  men  were  contemporaries — born  in  the  same 
year.  The  period  in  which  they  lived  was  still 
dominated  by  the  vocal  art.  Handel  followed  the 
tendencies  of  the  time  without  hesitation;  Bach, 
impelled  by  inherited  inclination  and  genius, 
worked  to  bring  in  the  new  era,  the  instrumental 
era  of  music.  We  are  in  the  midst  of  that  era 
to-day;  it  has  taken  possession  of  the  art.  Noth- 
ing has  yet  happened  to  check  a  progress  the  march 
of  which  in  the  space  of  a  century  and  a  half  is 
unparalleled  in  any  one  of  the  other  arts.     Natu- 

114 


The  German  School — Bach  and  Handel 

rally  and  inevitably  that  composer  exerts  the  most 
puissant  influence  now  who,  something  less  than 
two  centuries  ago,  pointed  out  the  line  along  which 
Mozart,  Beethoven,  and  Wagner  were  to  hew  a 
road.     That  composer  was  Bach. 

So  we  find  Bach's  clavier  music  more  varied, 
more  voluminous,  more  significant,  and  more  vital 
by  far  than  that  of  Handel.  Of  Handel's  music 
specifically  written  for  the  harpsichord,  very  little 
is  to  be  found  upon  the  programmes  of  to-day. 
The  air  and  variations  popularly  known  as  "The 
Harmonious  Blacksmith"  appears  in  the  concert 
lists  most  frequently,  and  is  the  most  generally  ad- 
mired of  his  compositions.  Originally  it  consti- 
tuted the  last  movement  of  a  harpsichord  suite. 
Aside  from  the  charm  of  its  melody  (the  origin  of 
which  has  caused  large  discussion  which  may  be 
said  to  have  failed  of  definite  result)  the  piece  has 
interest  as  illustrating  a  brilliant  style  of  variation 
which  Handel  introduced  into  the  suite  form. 
Tradition  has  added  to  the  interest  by  wrapping 
an  ample  cloak  of  fiction  around  it.  The  familiar 
story  runs  that  Handel  was  once  caught  in  a  rain- 
storm while  walking  through  the  village  of  Edge- 
ware  on  his  way  to  Cannons.  He  took  refuge  in  the 
shop  of  a  blacksmith,  who  sang  a  song  while  at 
work,  keeping  time  to  the  music  with  his  hammer 
on  the  anvil.  Handel  remembered  the  tune,  and 
on  reaching  home  wrote  variations  on  it.     It  was 

115 


The  Composers 


thus  that  the  tune  acquired  the  name  of  "The 
Harmonious  Blacksmith."  A  vast  deal  of  labor 
has  been  spent  in  investigating  the  story,  even  the 
hammer  and  anvil  which  figure  in  it  having  been 
hunted  up  and  preserved  and  the  observation  made 
that  the  anvil  (reverentially  written  in  the  books 
with  a  big  A)  when  hit  by  the  hammer  (spelled  with 
a  big  H)  gave  out  the  tones  B  and  E,  dominant  and 
tonic  respectively  of  the  key  in  which  the  air  stands; 
but,  unhappily  for  the  lovers  of  musical  romance, 
nothing  has  been  found  to  substantiate  the  story. 
In  the  early  editions  of  Handel's  suites  the  move- 
ment has  no  other  designation  than  "Air  et 
Doubles." 

As  for  the  rest,  Handel's  name  is  oftener  seen 
nowadays  bracketed  with  that  of  Brahms  as  the 
composer  of  the  latter's  Twenty-six  Variations 
(Op.  24)  than  alone  on  the  programmes  of  piano- 
forte players.  In  the  complete  edition  of  Handel's 
works,  published  by  the  German  Handel  Society 
(the  title  is  little  else  than  a  euphemism  for  Dr. 
Friedrich  Chrysander)  the  clavier  pieces  are  in- 
cluded in  a  single  volume,  which,  in  four  divisions, 
contains  sixteen  suites,  three  chaconnes  (one  with 
sixty-two  variations),  two  capriccios,  six  fugues,  a 
fantasia,  a  prelude  and  air  with  variations,  a  lesson, 
a  coranto  and  two  minuets,  a  prelude  and  allegro, 
two  sonatas  and  a  sonatina.  His  fugues,  like  his 
concertos,  were  for  either  organ  or  harpsichord.     A 

116 


The  German  School — Bach  and  Handel 

light-hearted,  glad  devotion  to  simple,  sensuous 
beauty,  the  dower  received  in  Italy  and  husbanded 
among  the  English  aristocracy,  characterizes  this 
music.  Everything  is  clear,  everything  natural, 
everything  plastic,  everything  shows  the  typical 
physiognomy  of  the  period. 

Were  I  discussing  Bach's  church  compositions 
it  would  be  an  easy  and  a  delightful  task  to  show 
how  the  influence  of  the  German  Reformed  ser- 
vice, to  which  I  have  referred  in  connection  with 
his  predecessors  of  the  North  German  school,  made 
Bach's  music  in  a  peculiar  degree  an  expression  of 
true,  tender,  deep,  and  individual  feeling — the 
hymning  of  a  sentiment,  sprung  from  a  radical 
change  in  the  relative  attitude  of  church  and  indi- 
vidual accomplished  by  the  Reformation  in  Ger- 
many. Bach  was  a  supreme  master  in  the  treat- 
ment of  the  Chorale,  in  which  the  secular  folksong 
was  in  a  manner  sublimated,  and  the  romantic  ele- 
ments found  in  their  melodies,  coupled  with  the 
vast  freedom  allowed  to  him  in  their  treatment  (as 
hymns,  organ  preludes,  the  foundation  of  cantatas, 
motets,  oratorios,  etc.),  emancipated  him  from 
nearly  all  conventional  shackles.  Polyphonist  he 
was  of  a  necessity,  but  with  what  a  wondrous  pre- 
science of  the  future  is  shown  in  his  "Chromatic 
Fantasia  and  Fugue." 

This  composition  is  one  that  has  held  musi- 
cians in  wonder  and  admiration  as  long  as  it  has 
117 


The  Composers 


been  known.  Forkel,  who  was  practically  Bach's 
first  biographer,  got  a  copy  of  the  work  from  Wil- 
helm  Friedemann,  the  great  Bach's  son.  Accom- 
panying it  was  a  bit  of  paper  containing  the  follow- 
ing doggerel,  written  by  a  friend  of  the  biographer: 

Anbey  kommi  an 

Etwas  Musik  'von  Sebastian. 

Sonnst  genannt:  Fantasia  Chromatica 

Bleibt  schon  in  alle  Sfficula. 

In  this  monumental  work  the  treatment  of  a 
purely  vocal  element — the  recitative — is  such  as 
to  bring  it  a  century  nearer  us  than  it  was  in 
the  works  of  Vivaldi  and  the  Northern  organists 
from  whom  Bach  borrowed  it.  Tendencies  toward 
homophonic  writing  may  be  found  in  his  instru- 
mental pieces,  as  in  Handel's,  but  in  the  interweav- 
ing of  voices  he  found  a  more  eloquent  means  of 
expressing  emotions  than  the  Italians  commanded, 
with  their  fondness  for  melody  qua  melody.  The 
seriousness  of  his  nature  is  shown  in  the  fact  that 
the  clavier  pieces  in  which  his  individuality  is  most 
pronounced  are  those  written  for  the  instruction  of 
would-be  players  and  composers,  chiefly  of  his  own 
household.  His  French  and  English  suites  are 
written  in  the  manner  of  the  time,  and  his  Italian 
concerto  shows  his  appreciation  of  the  sensuous 
beauty  which  was  the  be-all  and  end-all  of  Italian 
music  at  the  time.     The  simplest  form  of  his  clavier 

ii8 


The  German  School — Bach  and  Handel 

music  is  found  in  his  two  and  three  part  "Inven- 
tions," whose  supplementary  title  confesses  that 
they  were  composed  to  help  players  to  attain  to  a 
cantahile  style. 

His  loveliest  work,  the  forty-eight  preludes  and 
fugues  in  all  the  keys,  major  and  minor,  known  as 
"The  Well  Tempered  Clavichord,"  not  only  had 
the  educational  purpose  already  assigned  to  it,  but 
was  also  a  tribute  to  that  one  of  the  clavier  instru- 
ments which  was  most  capable  of  expression.  Its 
melodies,  whether  treated  freely,  as  in  the  preludes, 
or  strictly,  as  in  the  fugues,  are  full  of  the  charm  of 
spontaneous  song,  and  are  in  a  spiritual  sense  as 
eloquent  a  voice  of  romanticism  as  the  recitatives 
in  the  "Chromatic  Fantasia"  and  the  efforts  at  the  ex- 
pression of  set  ideas  in  the  "  Capriccio  on  the  De- 
parture of  a  Beloved  Brother"  are  in  a  material. 
It  pleases  me  when  I  hear  the  C-sharp  major  fugue 
to  think  that  Bach  probably  found  the  inspiration 
for  such  themes  on  those  Sunday  excursions  which, 
he  tells  us,  he  used  to  make  in  order  to  rejoice 
and  refresh  himself  at  popular  merry-makings  with 
the  songs  and  dances  of  the  folk.  In  further  ex- 
planation of  the  title  and  purpose  of  "The  Well 
Tempered  Clavichord"  it  may  be  said  that  it  was 
composed  to  illustrate  the  practicability  of  equal 
temperament.  In  claviers  tuned  according  to  the 
system  approved  by  Bach  all  the  twenty-four  keys 
in  chromatic  succession  are  equally  in  tune,  whereas 
119 


The  Composers 


in  the  system  formerly  employed  certain  keys  had 
to  be  avoided.  For  instance,  B  major  and  A-flat 
major  were  rarely  used;  F-sharp  major  and  C-sharp 
major  never.  Bach  gathered  the  first  twenty-four 
preludes  and  fugues  together  in  1722  and  the  second 
set  in  1744.  Of  the  first  set  three  copies  are  extant 
in  Bach's  handwriting;  of  the  second  there  is  no 
complete  autograph.  The  work  was  not  printed 
until  1800. 

By  Bach's  four  duets  for  two  claviers,  his  varia- 
tions for  clavier  with  two  keyboards,  echo-effects  in 
other  works  and  the  compositions  specified  as  writ- 
ten for  clavicembalo  (harpsichord),  as  well  as  other 
works  in  which  the  clavier  figures  in  association 
with  other  instruments,  the  student  should  be 
warned  that  the  notes  as  written  down  and  after- 
ward printed  by  no  means  represent  the  music  as 
it  was  actually  heard  in  Bach's  time.  The  mechan- 
ical construction  of  the  harpsichord,  with  its  several 
sets  of  strings  and  its  couplers,  placed  at  the  com- 
mand of  the  player  a  much  greater  variety  and  vol- 
ume of  sound  in  proportion  to  the  normal  voice  of 
the  instrument,  than  can  be  obtained  from  the 
pianoforte  to-day.  Since  the  name  of  Bach  is  so 
frequently  bracketed  with  that  of  Liszt,  it  seems  also 
well  to  explain  that  six  of  Bach's  preludes  and 
fugues  for  the  organ  were  transcribed  for  the  piano- 
forte by  Liszt.  The  transcriptions  were  an  experi- 
ment, Liszt  desiring  to  see  what  effect  could  be  pro- 

120 


The  German  School — Bach  and  Handel 

duced  on  a  pianoforte  with  works  which  their  cre- 
ator intended  to  be  played  upon  the  organ,  with 
its  multiplicity  of  keyboards — two  or  three  for  the 
hands  and  one  for  the  feet.  In  reducing  the  mech- 
anism which  was  at  Bach's  service  to  its  lowest 
terms,  so  to  speak,  Liszt,  anxious  not  to  sacrifice  any 
of  the  original  polyphonic  fabric,  produced  a  set  of 
virtuoso  pieces  which  long  remained  his  private 
property.  He  made  the  transcriptions  in  1842,  and 
it  was  more  than  ten  years  later  that  he  yielded  to 
the  pleadings  of  Dehn  and  gave  them  to  the  public. 


VIII 

Classicism  and  the  Sonata 

IN  a  peculiarly  intimate  manner  the  pianoforte, 
which  superseded  the  other  instruments  of  the 
clavier  family  about  the  close  of  the  period  illus- 
trated by  the  men  last  discussed,  is  bound  up  with 
classicism  and  the  sonata.  I  use  these  terms  ar- 
bitrarily, intending  that  they  shall  serve  as  obser- 
vation points,  and  to  this  end  I  must  attempt  a 
definition  of  them.  Such  a  definition  ought  to  be 
general  and  comprehensive  rather  than  specific. 
Strictly  speaking,  the  dividing  lines  commonly  con- 
sidered as  existing  between  periods,  schools,  and 
artistic  forms  do  not  exist.  These  things  are  over- 
lapping and  gradual  growths.  We  recognize  them, 
note  their  elements,  give  them  names,  and  employ 
these  names  in  broad  characterization  after  a  man 
of  strong  individuality  has  arisen  and  stamped  them 
with  the  hall-mark  of  his  genius.  Such  a  man  the 
people  of  a  later  day  are  prone  to  look  upon  as  an 
innovator  or  inventor,  when,  in  point  of  fact,  he  is 
only  a  continuator,  and,  at  the  best,  a  perfecter. 
So  Palestrina;  so  Bach;  so  Haydn;  so  Beethoven; 
so  Wagner.     All  these  are  but  products  of  an  evo- 

122 


Classicism  and  the  Sonata 


lution  of  vast  scope  and  antiquity,  and  were  sur- 
rounded by  men  who  worked  with  them  on  the 
lines  which  they  drew,  broad  and  luminous,  across 
the  pages  of  musical  history.  That  fact  explains 
why  it  was  that  some  of  them  seemed  less  great  to 
their  contemporaries  than  to  those  who  came  after 
them.  They  were  not  so  pre-eminent  in  their  day, 
because  they  were  surrounded  by  composers  whose 
learning  and  skill  satisfied  the  critical  demands  and 
the  popular  taste  of  their  times.  Not  even  the 
greatest  of  these  men  would  loom  up  in  the  histori- 
cal vista  as  he  does  were  the  works  of  his  prede- 
cessors and  contemporaries  intimately  known  and 
his  relationship  to  them  properly  appreciated.  The 
history  of  every  art  is  full  of  pretty  fictions — too 
much  occupied  with  biography.  When  musical 
history  shall  be  revised  (as  it  will  be  when  the 
labors  of  the  critical  antiquaries  now  active  are 
completed)  it  will  have  lost  some  of  its  romance, 
but  it  will  better  disclose  the  processes  of  musical 
evolution. 

But  to  the  definitions.  Classical  music  is  music 
written  by  men  of  the  highest  rank  in  their  art — 
men  corresponding  with  the  classici  of  ancient 
Rome.  It  is  music  written  in  obedience  to  widely 
accepted  laws,  disclosing  the  highest  degree  of  per- 
fection on  its  technical  and  formal  side,  but  pre- 
ferring aesthetic  beauty  to  emotional  content,  and 
123 


The  Composers 


refusing  to  sacrifice  form  to  poetic,  dramatic,  or 
characteristic  expression.  In  this  definition  I  have 
embraced  the  notion  of  rank  and  also  the  antithesis 
between  classicism  and  romanticism  which  will  have 
to  be  borne  in  mind  when  we  proceed  to  a  discus- 
sion of  the  music  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

A  pianoforte  sonata  is  a  piece  of  music  designed 
for  the  instrument,  consisting  of  three  or  four  move- 
ments, which  are  contrasted  in  tempo  and  char- 
acter, and,  in  the  best  specimens,  connected  by  a 
spiritual  bond.  Strictly  speaking,  the  model,  or 
design,  which  distinguishes  the  sonata  from  other 
compositions  is  found  in  the  first  movement.  This 
is  tripartite.  In  the  first  section  the  subject-matter 
of  the  movement  (generally  two  themes,  which  are 
contrasted  in  mood  but  related  in  key)  is  pre- 
sented for  identification;  in  the  second  it  is  de- 
veloped, worked  out,  illustrated,  exploited.  The 
third  section  is  recapitulatory;  it  is  made  up  of  a 
repetition  of  the  first  part,  with  modifications  and 
a  close. 

f  The  sonata  became  the  dominant  form  in  all 
kinds  of  instrumental  music  in  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  has  remained  the  domi- 
nant form  ever  since.  Like  everything  else  in  this 
world,  it  was  a  growth.  Its  name  existed  centuries 
before  the  thing  itself  as  we  know  it  now. j  If  my 
readers  will  think  back  upon  the  story  of  the  piano- 

124 


Classicism  and  the  Sonata 


forte  as  I  have  sketched  it  they  will  note  that  it 
illustrates  the  first,  the  simplest,  and  the  most  per- 
vasive principle  in  the  law  of  evolution.^  Each  step, 
from  the  savage's  bow  to  the  grand  pianoforte  of 
to-day,  shows  a  development  from  the  simple  to 
the  complex,  from  the  homogeneous  to  the  hetero- 
geneous. So,  too,  does  the  history  of  the  sonata. 
When  the  term  was  first  used  it  served  only  to  dis- 
tinguish pieces  that  were  sounded — i.  e.,  played — 
from  pieces  that  were  sung.  Sonata  was  the  an- 
tithesis of  cantata,  and  nothing  more.*  The  orches- 
tral pieces  of  the  Gabrielis,  in  the  sixteenth  century, 
were  called  sonatas;  so  were  the  instrumental  pre- 
ludes, interludes,  and  postludes  in  mixed  pieces.  A 
century  later  the  term  was  applied  to  compositions 
in  several  movements  for  combinations  of  viols,  for 
violin  alone,  and  for  violin  solo  with  continuo  for 
the  clavier.  \  Essentially  there  was  no  difference  be- 
tween the  sonata  and  the  suite  of  this  period,  a  relic 
of  which  fact  is  still  seen  in  the  inclusion  of  such 
dance  forms  as  the  minuet  and  rondo  in  the  sonata 
of  to-day.  The  sonata  form,  with  its  triple  division 
into  expository,  illustrative,  and  recapitulative  sec- 
tions, moreover,  is  itself  little  else  than  an  expan- 
sion of  a  device  found  in  some  of  the  oldest  printed 
dances.  ".  The  repetition  of  the  first  section,  the 
modulatory  nature  of  the  second  section,  and  the 
reprise  in  the  third  may  be  seen  in  the  following 
125 


The  Composers 


branle  (Shakespeare's  "brawl"),  from  a  book  of 
French  dances  published  in  1545: 


\  A  Bach  closed  the  epoch  last  described;  a  Bach 
Opened  the  new.  The  greatest  master  of  the  fugue 
was  succeeded  by  a  son  who  laid  broad  the  founda- 
tions upon  which  the  structure  characteristic  of  the 
new  century  was  to  be  reared.  The  contrapuntal 
style  gave  way  to  the  free,  polyphony  to  homophony, 
counterpoint  to  harmony.  The  change  was  not 
abrupt,  but  gradual.  The  achievements  of  Johann 
Sebastian  Bach  had  long  been  presaged,  and  his 
son,  Carl  Philipp  Emanuel  Bach  (17 14-1788),  had 
many  forerunners.  There  were  Rameau  and  Cou- 
perin,  in  France;  Domenico  Scarlatti  and  Paradies, 
in  Italy,  and  Kuhnau,  in  Germany.  Nevertheless, 
his  immediate  successors,  Joseph  Haydn  (1732- 
1809),  and  Wolfgang  Amadeus  Mozart  (i 756-1791), 
126 


Classicism  and  the  Sonata 


looked  upon  him  as  the  real  fashioner  of  the  form 
which  each  of  them  took  a  hand  in  perfecting.!  "  He 
is  the  father,  we  are  the  boys,"  said  Mozart.  The 
form  was  a  purely  arbitrary  one.  ^^Unlike  the  suite, 
it  owed  nothing  to  the  dance;  nor  was  it  beholden  to 
any  type  or  types  of  folksong.  Yet  it  proved  to  be  a 
marvellously  efficient  vehicle  for  beauty,  an  inviting 
playground  for  the  fancy.  It  promoted  a  love  for 
symmetry,  furthered  unity  between  the  parts,  and 
at  the  same  time  increased  the  opportunities  for 
contrast  in  moods  not  only  between  the  movements, 
but  in  the  movements  themselves.j  Varied  expres- 
sion, flux  and  reflux  of  sentiment^  wide  and  fruitful 
harmonic  excursions,  richness  in  modulation — all 
were  invited  by  it.  The  way  was  broadened  for 
the  exercise  of  the  imagination  and  opened  to  the 
play  of  the  emotions.  German  music  in  especial 
lost  some  of  its  seriousness  and  sober-sidedness  and 
took  on  some  of  the  careless  gayety  of  its  French  and 
Italian  sisters.  The  sonata  was  a  convenient  for- 
mula for  composers,  and  stimulated  them  to  vast 
productiveness.  Carl  Philipp  Emanuel  Bach  wrote 
146  sonatas  for  clavier  alone,  52  concertos  with 
accompaniments,  besides  a  mass  of  other  works; 
Haydn  wrote  34  sonatas  and  20  concertos,  and  em- 
ployed the  form  in  his  125  symphonies  and  many 
chamber  pieces;  Vanhal  composed  23  sonatas  and 
ro6  sonatinas;  Clementi,  64  sonatas;  Cramer,  105, 
and  so  on. 

127 


The  Composers 


-  The  laws  of  the  sonata  were  less  rigid  than  those 
of  the  polyphonic  forms,  yet  it  permitted  the  exer- 
cise of  any  amount  of  skill  and  learning.  Logic 
was  not  excluded,  but  its  demands  were  no  longer 
tyrannous.  Originality  and  ingenuity  were  ex- 
pended chiefly  in  the  invention  of  themes — that  is, 
the  discovery  of  material.  This  material,  once 
found,  was  easily  poured  into  the  mould  waiting  to 
receive  it.  But  there  was  scope  for  all  the  known 
styles  of  writing — for  thematic  development,  which, 
along  new  lines,  is  become  the  be-all  and  end-all 
of  music  since  Beethoven;  for  homophony  and  po- 
lyphony, for  fugue,  for  recitative,  for  variety  of 
rhythm,  and,  as  appeared  later,  for  dramatic  ex- 
pression as  well  as  lyric.  ' 

C.  P.  E.  Bach  has  suffered  at  the  hands  of 
modern  criticism  because  he  stands  in  the  shadow 
of  his  father.  He  was  Johann  Sebastian's  third 
son,  and  after  he  had  abandoned  the  law  became 
chamber  musician  and  cembalist  at  the  Prussian 
court.  There  it  was  his  special  duty  to  accompany 
the  tootling  of  Frederick  the  Great's  flute  at  the 
court  concerts,  of  which  Dr.  Burney  gives  us  so 
delightful  an  account  in  his  "Present  State."  He 
was  accounted  less  gifted  than  his  elder  brother, 
Wilhelm  Friedemann  (who  inherited  his  father's 
genius  in  a  large  measure,  but  squandered  it  in  an 
aimless  and  dissolute  life),  but  he  did  a  great  ser- 
vice to  music  in  strengthening  and  improving  the 

128 


Classicism  and  the  Sonata 


lines  of  the  sonata,  and  also  in  laying  the  founda- 
tions of  pianoforte  playing  in  his  book,  entitled 
*'  Versuch  uber  die  wahre  Art  das  Clavier  zu  spielen, 
mit  Exempeln  und  i8  Probestucken  in  6  Sonaten 
erlautert."^  This  book  was  an  authority  in  its 
field  for  generations,  and  is  still  sought  by  students 
of  pianoforte  pedagogics.  Its  first  part  was  pub- 
lished by  Bach  himself  in  1753,  the  second  part  in 
1 761.  It  discusses  methods  of  fingering,  embellish- 
ments {Maniren),  style  (Vortrag),  accompaniment, 
and  thoroughbass.  Bach  printed  much  of  his 
music  in  periodical  publications  and  otherwise,  and 
thus  enjoyed  an  opportunity  to  reach  the  public  ear 
vastly  greater  than  did  his  father,  who  ruined  his 
eyes  copying  and  engraving  his  compositions. 
Adolf  Prosniz,  in  his  "Handbuch  der  Clavier- 
Literatur,"^  describes  his  music  as  predominantly 
melodic,  vivacious,  and  varied  in  rhythm;  at  time^ 
full  of  feeling,  and  anon  humorous;  rich  in  con- 
ceits and  modulations  which  occasionally  run  out 
in  hizarrerie.  Flowing  cantabile  alternates  with 
lively  figuration  and  passage-work  calculated  to 
develop  the  capacity  of  the  instrument.  As  in 
Domenico  Scarlatti,  two-voicedness  prevails;  where- 
fore the  music  frequently  sounds  empty.  In  only  a 
portion  of  his  works  did  this  Bach  utilize  the  com- 

1  "Essay  on  the  True  Manner  of  Playing  the  Clavier,  Illus- 
trated with  Examples  and  i8  Trial  Pieces  in  6  Sonatas." 

2  Vol.  I.     Published  by  Carl  Gerold's  Sohn  in  Vienna,  1887. 

129 


The  Composers 


plete  sonata  form  as  he  handed  it  over  to  Haydn. 
Couperin  and  Scarlatti  seem  to  have  influenced  him 
more  than  the  great  father  who  begot  and  taught 
him,  though  this  may  have  been  largely  due  to  his 
surroundings.  There  was  nothing  German  about 
Frederick  the  Great's  court  except  the  people.  The 
great  soldier's  tastes  in  art  and  literature  were 
French;  he  had  no  patience  with  German  ideals. 
Bach  followed  his  French  predecessors  in  writing 
little  dance  pieces,  to  which  he  gave  titles  supposed 
to  be  suggestive  of  their  contents.  Sometimes  the 
titles  were  proper  names  (of  his  friends,  doubtless) ; 
sometimes  they  were  fancifully  delineative  of  char- 
acter, like  those  of  Couperin  which  I  have  cited — 
"La  Journahere,"  "La  Complaisante,"  "La  Ca- 
pricieuse,"  and  the  like.  The  French  excess  of 
ornament  also  remains  in  Emanuel  Bach's  music. 
Scan  the  programmes  of  the  pianoforte  virtuosi 
of  to-day  and  you  shall  occasionally  find  the  name 
of  Haydn  connected  with  the  "Andante  varie"  in 
F  minor.  It  is  an  exquisite  musical  blossom,  stand- 
ing far  from  its  companions  and  redolent  of  ro- 
manticism. Supposing  the  recital  to  be  an  histor- 
ical one,  you  may  also  look  for  a  sonata,  even  two 
sonatas,  in  E-fiat  major,  and  a  fantasia  in  C.  Is 
this,  then,  the  great  Haydn,  "  the  father  of  modern 
instrumental  music"?  It  is.  So  far  as  this  study 
goes,  we  are  concerned  with  Haydn  in  the  least 
significant  aspect  that  he  occupies  in  musical  his- 

130 


Classicism  and  the  Sonata 


tory.  On  this  promenade  we  can  only  glance  at 
him  who  established  the  string  quartet  and  crys- 
talhzed  the  symphony,  and  make  obeisance  in  pass- 
ing. Some  of  his  sonatas  live  in  the  class-room,  and 
the  teachers  are  not  few  who  prefer  a  few  of  them 
to  most  of  the  sonatas  of  the  greater  Mozart.  "  In- 
deed, in  some  of  them  he  seems  to  step  beyond 
Mozart  into  the  Beethoven  period,"  remarks  C.  F. 
Pohl  in  the  article  on  the  master  in  Grove's  "  Dic- 
tionary of  Music  and  Musicians."  Haydn  does  not 
mark  so  wide  a  stride  beyond  his  immediate  prede- 
cessor as  C.  P.  E.  Bach  marked  beyond  his  in  the 
mere  structure  of  his  pianoforte  pieces,  but  there  is 
a  great  advance  in  the  firmer,  clearer  modelling  of 
his  material,  the  greater  depth  and  beauty  of  his 
melodies  (especially  in  the  slow  movements),  and 
the  development  of  the  spiritual  bond  of  unity  be- 
tween the  parts.  Artificial  elegance  has  given  way 
to  that  ingenuous  winsomeness  which  mirrored  the 
composer's  happy  disposition  in  all  that  he  did. 
There  is  less  of  salon  courtesy  and  more  of  out-of- 
doors  geniality  in  the  new  music.  The  largest 
groups  of  Haydn's  music  for  the  pianoforte  consist 
of  the  thirty-four  solo  sonatas,  the  thirty-one  trios 
for  pianoforte,  violin,  and  violoncello  (also  de- 
nominated sonatas  when  first  published),  the 
sonatas  for  pianoforte  and  violin  (eight  in  num- 
ber in  the  edition  of  Breitkopf  and  Hartel),  and 
the  concertos  for  pianoforte  and  orchestra.     The 

131 


The  Composers 


groups  are  here  put  down  in  the  order  of  their 
artistic  value.  The  concertos  have  long  been  in 
the  limbo  of  oblivion;  the  duet  sonatas  and  trios 
live  modestly  in  the  home-circle  of  musical  folk; 
the  sonatas  survive  in  the  class-room.  The  order  is 
reversed  in  the  case  of  Mozart,  the  best  of  whose 
concertos  still  possess  vitality  and  charm  enough  to 
engage  the  attention  of  public  performers. 

Though  J"  have  associated  the  pianoforte  with 
the  perfection  of  the  sonata  in  its  classic  state  the 
instrument  did  not  become  a  dominant  influence 
in  composition  until  the  advent  of  Mozart.:  The 
invention  of  Cristofori  had  practically  been  forgot- 
ten and  had  to  be  revived  in  Germany  by  Silber- 
mann.  That  manufacturer  produced  instruments 
and  brought  them  to  the  notice  of  Bach.  It  is  a 
familiar  story  in  the  books  how  the  great  man 
visited  Potsdam  in  1747  on  the  invitation  of  the 
great  Frederick,  arriving  at  the  palace  while  a  court 
concert  was  in  progress.  "  Gentlemen,  old  Bach  is 
come,"  said  the  royal  flautist,  and  closed  the  enter- 
tainment at  once.  Then  the  company  went  from 
room  to  room  to  hear  Bach  play  "on  the  forte- 
pianos  of  Silbermann,"  and  to  listen  with  amaze- 
ment and  delight  to  that  improvisation  on  a  theme 
set  by  the  king,  which,  when  elaborated  at  home, 
became  the  "  Musikalisches  Opfer."  Silbermann 
was  extremely  anxious  to  win  the  good  opinion  of 
Bach  for  his  new  instrument,  but  though  he  con- 

132 


Classicism  and  the  Sonata 


suited  him,  profited  by  his  advice,  and  eventually 
received  his  comphments,  he  never  w^eaned  him 
from  his  preference  for  the  clavichord  over  all  its 
rivals.  Forkel  said  of  Bach:  "He  liked  best  to 
play  upon  the  clavichord;  the  harpsichord,  though 
certainly  susceptible  of  a  very  great  variety  of  ex- 
pression, had  not  soul  enough  for  him,  and  the 
piano  was  in  his  lifetime  too  much  in  its  infancy  and 
still  much  too  coarse  to  satisfy  him."  His  son  saw 
the  pianoforte  come  into  favor,  but  he,  too,  pre- 
ferred the  clavichord  for  his  own  communings  with 
the  muse,  and  brought  forth  that  instrument  when 
he  wished  to  give  Dr.  Burney  an  evidence  of  his 
skill  as  a  player.^  There  is  nothing  in  the  music  of 
Haydn  to  suggest  the  need  of  the  new  instrument. 
He  was  not  a  virtuoso,  like  Mozart,  and  his  public 
use  of  the  harpsichord  was  probably  confined  to  its 
employment  as  an  accompaniment  instrument  in 
connection  with  the  orchestra.  But  the  advent  of 
the  gracious  sonata  style,  the  development  of  musi- 
cal culture  among  amateurs,  and,  probably,  also  the 
growing  popularity  of  the  Hammerclavier  led  to 
the  employment  of  keyed  instruments  in  the  manner 
exemplified  in  the  duo  sonatas  and  trios  of  Haydn. 
The  old  continuo  gave  way  to  a  part  which  was  of 
something  like  equal  importance  with  that  of  the 
violin  or  the  violin  and  violoncello;   then  to  a  part 

^  See  the  account  of  Burney's  visit  to  Bach  in  his  "Present 
State." 


The  Composers 


which  might  hold  its  own  with  an  orchestral  accom- 
paniment. 

The  road  to  the  modern  trio,  quartet,  quintet, 
and  concerto,  in  which  the  pianoforte  shares  the 
work  of  developing  the  thematic  material  with  its 
companions,  was  thae  blazed  by  Haydn,  though  it 
was  not  fully  opened  until  a  little  later.  That 
opening  needed  the  coming  of  Mozart  and  the  im- 
petus which  he,  a  public  performer  from  the  very 
outset  of  his  career,  received  in  the  concert-room^ 
When  the  wonderful  child  made  his  trip  down  the 
Danube,  to  play  before  the  emperor  and  climb  into 
the  lap  of  the  empress  at  Vienna,  he  carried  his 
little  clavichord  with  him.  When  he  called  for 
Wagenseil,  in  order  that  his  playing  might  have  the 
appreciation  of  "one  who  knew,"  he  performed 
upon  the  harpsichord.  Before  the  end  of  his 
career  the  pianoforte  had  won  his  love  and  en- 
tered upon  that  progress  which,  in  our  day,  enables 
it  to  cope  with  an  army  of  strings,  wood-wind  and 
brass.  One  of  the  items  in  the  inventory  of  the 
property  which  he  owned  when  he  died  was  a  piano- 
forte "with  pedal,"  valued  at  eighty  florins.  A 
pianoforte  is  preserved  among  the  relics  housed  in 
the  quaint  httle  museum,  in  the  Getreidegasse,  in 
Salzburg;  as  also  is  a  clavichord,  which,  however,  is 
generally  and  incorrectly  set  down  in  the  catalogues 
as  a  spinet.  A  letter  which  he  wrote  to  his  father 
from  Augsburg  in  October,  1777,  tells  of  the  pleas- 

134 


Classicism  and  the  Sonata 


ure  which  he  derived  from  playing  upon  a  piano- 
forte made  by  Stein.  In  it  he  praises  the  equahty 
of  the  key  action  and  the  promptness  of  the  escape- 
ment as  something  new,  and  lauds  the  superiority 
of  the  damper-action,  which  was  still  worked  with 
the  knee,  like  the  swell  of  a  harmonium. 

As  to  the  qualities  of  Mozart's  pianoforte  music, 
they  cannot  be  described  better  than  Prosniz  has 
described  them  in  the  book  already  referred  to: 

That  beauty  of  form,  purity  of  tone,  and  carelessly  easy  in- 
vention which  were  native  to  Mozart  mark  his  clavier  music. 
In  his  ideas  noble  expression  alternates  with  innocent  tone- 
play  full  of  childlike  ingenuousness.  In  the  workmanship 
pellucid  harmony  is  predominant,  and  that  chaste  temperance 
which  permeates  modulation  as  well  as  polyphony  and  never 
loses  itself  in  baroque  conceits  and  whimsicalities.  Mozart 
widened  the  sonata  form  by  an  extended  middle  section  in  the 
song  style.  Some  of  his  sonatas,  as  well  as  a  number  of  his 
other  pieces  for  pianoforte,  are  of  lasting  loveliness;  but  the 
centre  of  gravity  in  the  music  which  he  wrote  for  the  instru- 
ment lies  in  the  concertos.  These  are  thoroughly  novel  in 
form  and  style.  Though  the  pianoforte  parts  may  appear 
puny  in  ideas  at  times,  and  faded  in  the  passage-work,  they 
are  nevertheless  ennobled  by  the  symphonic  and  magical 
treatment  of  the  orchestra  which  appears  concertante  with  the 
solo  instrument.  Here  we  find  veritable  treasures  of  music. 
It  was  Mozart,  too,  who  created  the  first  important  pieces  for 
four  hands  in  his  incomparable  sonatas. 

y  It  was  Beethoven  who  breathed  the  breath  of  a 
new  life  into  that  which  had  been  httle  else  than  a 
convenient  formula  for  the  expression  of  merely 

135 


The  Composers 


sensuous  beauty.  Beethoven  was  at  once  the  end 
of  the  old  dispensation  and  the  beginning  of  the 
new;  the  connecting  hnk  between  classicism  and 
romanticism;  conservator  and  regenerator;  his- 
torian and  seer;  master  builder  and  arch  destroj^er^J^ 
To  him  I  purpose  to  devote  a  separate  chapter.  ^ 
Grouped  around,  antedating  and  postdating  him, 
influencing  him  and  receiving  influence  from  him, 
are  the  epigonoi  who  tilled  the  ground  prepared  by 
the  classic  composers.  It  is  significant  of  the 
period  and  the  style  of  their  writing  that  the  best 
of  them  were  virtuosi  whose  influence  was  most 
enduring  in  the  department  of  pianoforte  technics. 
Manner  rather  than  matter  distinguished  their  com- 
positions. They  were  vastly  productive,  for  they 
found  their  models  at  hand,  and  lofty  thought  and 
deep  emotion  had  not  begun  to  assert  themselves  as 
essentials  when  they  began  their  careers.  'They 
were  a  numerous  band,  and  the  burden  of  their 
importance  hes  in  the  department  of  study  to  which 
I  hope  to  devote  my  final  chapter.  A  few,  however, 
must  have  mention  here,  and  I  have  chosen  Muzio 
Clementi  (1752-1832),  Johann  Nepomuk  Hummel 
(1778-1837),  Johann  Ludwig  Dussek  (1761-1812), 
and  Johann  Baptist  Cramer  (i 771-1858)  as  rep- 
resentatives of  the  class.  Two  other  men  may  first 
enlist  our  passing  attention  and  sympathetic  inter- 
est because  of  their  relationship,  one  physical,  the 
other  spiritual,  to  the  giant  who  was  the  culmina- 

136 


Classicism  and  the  Sonata 


tion  of  the  preceding  order.  Johann  Christian 
Bach  shared  only  the  family  name  with  his  great 
father,  Johann  Sebastian.  Like  Handel,  he  went 
out  into  the  world  of  fashion,  yielded  to  its  sway, 
and  became  an  elegant  musician.  Italy  set  its  seal 
on  him  when  he  became  organist  of  Milan  Cathe- 
dral, married  an  Italian  prima  donna,  and  set  his 
heart  on  operatic  compositions.  He  spent  the  last 
twenty-three  years  of  his  life  in  London,  where  he 
became  music-master  to  the  queen.  There  the 
boy  Mozart  sat  on  his  knees  and  improvised  duets 
with  him. 

The  Bach  traditions  did  not  live  in  him  as  they 
did  in  one  between  whom  and  their  creator  there 
existed  no  ties  of  blood.  Friederich  Wilhelm  Rust 
(i 739-1 796)  was  only  eleven  years  old  when  "old 
Bach"  died,  but  at  thirteen  he  was  already  able  to 
play  all  the  Forty-eight  Preludes  and  Fugues  by 
heart.  Bach's  music  was  his  delight.  He  went  to 
the  sons  Friedemann  and  Emanuel  for  lessons  in 
composition  and  organ  and  clavier  playing.  His 
son,  Wilhelm  Karl,  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  Beeth- 
oven, and  his  grandson.  Dr.  Wilhelm  Rust  (1822- 
1892),  who  edited  some  of  his  works  (with  modern 
additions,  as  Mr.  Shedlock  regretfully  chronicles), 
appropriately  became  a  successor  of  Bach  as  cantor 
of  St.  Thomas's,  in  Leipsic.  Dr.  E.  Prieger  has 
hailed  F.  W.  Rust  as  Ein  Vorgdnger  Beethovens,  a 
precursor  of  Beethoven. 

137 


The  Composers 


"With  the  exception  of  Mozart's  sonata  in  C 
minor,  Haydn's  'Genziger'  and  'London'  sonatas, 
both  in  E-flat,  also  some  of  Rust's  .  .  .  there  are,  to 
our  thinking,  none  which  in  spirit  come  nearer  to 
Beethoven  than  some  of  dementi's,"  says  Mr.  Shed- 
lock  in  his  admirable  book  on  the  history  of  the 
sonata/  "Clementi  represents  the  sonata  proper 
from  beginning  to  end,"  is  Edward  Dannreuther's 
dictum  in  his  article  printed  in  Grove's  "Dic- 
tionary." Scholars  frequently  hold  such  opinions 
touching  works  which  to  the  mass  of  musicians  in 
our  eager,  impatient,  and  self-sufficient  age  seem 
hopelessly  antiquated.  Haydn  has  not  been  spared, 
nor  Mozart,  nor  Beethoven;  so  radical  has  been 
the  change  in  taste  accomplished  by  the  romantic 
movement  characteristic  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
It  is  meet  and  proper,  therefore,  in  a  historical  re- 
view, that  the  excellences  of  the  masters  of  the  past 
which  appealed  to  their  contemporaries  be  pointed 
out  as  well  as  the  things  which  are  shortcomings 
from  a  later  point  of  view.  Pianists  are  not  likely 
soon  to  forget  what  Clementi  did  in  a  pedagogic 
way  in  his  collection  of  one  hundred  studies  entitled 
"  Gradus  ad  Parnassum,"  ^  neither  should  they  so 

*  "The  Pianoforte  Sonata;  Its  Origin  and  Development,"  by 
J.  S.  Shedlock,  B.A.,  London:  Methuen  &  Co.,  1895. 

^"Gradus  ad  Parnassum,  ou  I'art  de  jouer  le  Pianoforte 
demonstre  par  des  Exercices  dans  le  style  severe  et  dans  le  style 
elegant."  The  work  is  in  three  parts,  the  first  of  which  appeared 
in  1817. 


Classicism  and  the  Sonata 


completely  neglect  his  sonatas  as  to  remain  ignorant 
of  the  fine  sense  of  characterization  as  well  as  the 
vivacity  and  variety  displayed  in  them,  dementi's 
sonatas  were  the  admiration  of  Beethoven,  who 
knew  how  to  keep  a  firm  foothold  on  the  past  even 
while  sending  his  prescient  glances  far  into  the 
future.  Mr.  Dannreuther's  comprehensive  praise 
need  not  disturb  us.  dementi's  life  covered  a 
greater  stretch  of  the  classical  sonata  period  than 
any  one  of  its  sons.  He  was  born  twenty  years 
after  Haydn,  but  lived  twenty-three  years  later; 
born  four  years  before  Mozart  and  outlived  him 
forty-one  years;  was  eighteen  years  old  when  Bee- 
thoven was  born,  and  had  still  five  years  of  life  be- 
fore him  when  that  master  went  to  his  grave.  He 
was  Mozart's  rival  in  the  concert-field,  and  met  him 
in  artistic  combat,  as  was  customary  at  the  time, 
before  Emperor  Joseph  II.  in  1781,  when  he  played 
the  sonata  in  B-flat,  whose  principal  theme  became 
the  chief  subject  of  the  overture  to  "The  Magic 
Flute,"  a  decade  later.  Mozart  once  called  him  a 
"charlatan,  like  all  the  Italians";  but  it  was  plainly 
in  a  moment  of  irritation,  and  the  remark  did  not 
reflect  a  dispassionate  judgment.  It  was  not  given 
to  dementi  to  go  beyond  Haydn;  but  neither  was 
it  given  to  Haydn  to  go  beyond  Mozart,  though  he 
antedated  him  twenty-four  years  and  outlived  him 
eighteen.  He  was  a  phenomenal  talent,  not  a  great 
genius. 

139 


The  Composers 


It  is  written  that  Haydn  was  in  the  habit  of  begin- 
ning a  composition  by  inventing  a  theme,  selecting 
the  keys  through  which  he  intended  to  make  it  pass, 
and  then  going  to  a  httle  romance  which  he  im- 
agined for  sentiment  and  color  while  he  worked.  It 
is  not  unlikely  that  dementi's  method  was  a  simi- 
lar application  of  rule  of  thumb  and  subjective 
impression.  However  mild  the  dose  of  subjectivity, 
it  was  yet  an  advance  toward  romanticism,  as  com- 
pared with  the  externalism  which  held  sway  in  the 
intituled  dance  pieces  of  Couperin  and  the  Biblical 
sonatas  of  Kuhnau.  Titles  and  marks  of  expres- 
sion and  tempo  helped  to  fix  the  attention  and 
arouse  the  fancy,  and  it  is  quite  as  easy  to  detect 
the  conflicting  emotions  which  tore  the  heart  of 
unhappy  Dido  deserted  by  /Eneas  in  dementi's 
sonata  in  G  minor,  Op.  64,  as  the  long  train  of 
poetical  and  metaphysical  conceits  in  some  of  the 
programmatic  pieces  which  came  a  century  later. 
His  hints,  at  least,  were  direct,  lucid,  modest,  and 
not  impertinent;  for  instance:  "Didone  abbando- 
nata,  Scena  tragica.  I.  Largo-sostenuto  e  patetico; 
II.  Allegro-deliberando  e  meditando;  III.  Adagio- 
dolente;  IV.  Allegro-agitato  e  con  disperazione." 
Dussek  was  less  temperate  in  his  use  of  titles,  or, 
perhaps,  like  Beethoven  and  Chopin,  a  greater  vic- 
tim of  the  insensate  desire  of  publishers  to  put 
attractive  labels  on  their  wares. 

Dussek  was  a  Bohemian,  and  there  is  an  occa- 
140 


Classicism  and  the  Sonata 


sional  outburst  of  something  like  the  Czechish  fire 
to  which  Smetana  and  Dvorak  have  accustomed  us 
in  some  of  his  music.  He  was  enormously  fruitful 
in  the  sonata  field,  though  only  a  small  fraction  of 
his  works  have  survived  in  print.  We  count  twelve 
concertos  with  orchestra,  a  quartet,  a  quintet, 
twenty  or  twenty-five  pianoforte  trios,  forty  or  fifty 
sonatas  for  pianoforte  and  violin  (or  flute — it  made 
little  difference  to  the  taste  of  that  day),  twelve 
sonatinas  for  pianoforte  and  violin,  twenty-six 
sonatas  for  pianoforte  alone.  For  four  years  Dus- 
sek  was  a  friend  and  musical  mentor  to  that  Prince 
Louis  Ferdinand  whose  highest  encomium  is  to  be 
found  in  Beethoven's  comment:  "Your  highness 
does  not  play  like  a  prince,  but  like  a  musician." 
When  the  prince  died  Dussek  wrote  a  sonata  in 
F-sharp  minor  (Op.  6i)  and  called  it  "Elegie  har- 
monique  sur  le  mort  du  Prince  Louis  Ferdinand  de 
Prusse,  en  forme  de  sonate,"  following  it  with  an 
andante  in  B-flat,  which  he  dedicated  to  the  mem- 
ory of  his  royal  patron  and  called  "La  Consola- 
tion." He  also  composed  a  "Tableau  de  la  situa- 
tion de  Marie  Antoinette,"  and  a  sonata,  "La  morte 
de  Marie  Antoinette."  Nor  did  he  disdain  to  follow 
a  horde  of  predecessors  in  writing  a  battle  piece. 
He  called  it  a  "  Battaille  navale,"  and  issued  it  not 
only  as  a  pianoforte  solo,  but  in  an  arrangement 
for  violin,  violoncello,  and  big  drum.  We  may 
smile  at  this,  at  Kotzwara's  "Battle  of  Prague," 

141 


The  Composers 


"Mr.  Byrd's  Battle,"  and  Munday's  meteorological 
fantasia,  but  we  can  scarcely  do  so  in  good  con- 
science so  long  as  we  accept  Richard  Strauss's  set- 
ting of  Nietzsche's  philosophy  with  sober  faces. 
Mr.  Shedlock  courageously  breaks  a  lance  for  Dus- 
sek  and  finds  that  in  his  last  three  sonatas  he  was 
influenced  "by  the  earnestness  of  Beethoven,  the 
chivalric  spirit  of  Weber,  and  the  poetry  of  Schu- 
bert." 

Johann  Baptist  Cramer  wrote  no  less  than 
105  sonatas,  of  which  forty  or  fifty  were  for  piano- 
forte solo,  the  rest  accompanied;  also  eight  con- 
certos and  many  pieces  of  a  miscellaneous  charac- 
ter. To  a  few  of  his  sonatas  he  gave  titles  in  Dus- 
sek's  manner:  "La  Parodie,"  "L'Ultima,"  "Les 
Suivantes"  (the  three  sonatas,  Op.  57,  58,  and 
59),  and  "Le  Retour  a  Londres."  The  distinction 
between  the  old  and  new  styles  of  playing,  which 
grew  up  in  his  time  and  was  actively  promoted  by 
the  EngHsh  manufacture  of  pianofortes,  was  illus- 
trated by  Cramer  in  a  "Fantasie  capricieuse." 
Other  pieces  which  he  issued  with  titles  (he  was 
his  own  pubhsher)  were  "Un  Jour  de  Printemps," 
"Le  Petit  Rien"  (a  romance  with  variations),  and 
"Les  Adieux  a  ses  Amis  de  Paris."  The  last  com- 
position, and  the  sonata  in  which  he  celebrated  his 
return  to  London,  probably  owed  their  origin,  or 
rather  titles,  to  the  fact  that  he  spent  a  few  years  of 
his  life  as  a  resident  of  the  French  capital. 

142 


Classicism  and  the  Sonata 


Cramer  was  taken  to  London  when  one  year 
old  by  his  father,  a  German  viohnist,  who  became  a 
conspicuous  figure  in  the  musical  life  of  the  metrop- 
olis as  teacher,  player,  and  conductor.  He  was 
leader  for  a  time  of  the  Antient  and  the  Profes- 
sional concerts,  and  conducted  two  of  the  Handel 
festivals  in  Westminster  Abbey.  His  son  studied 
with  him  and  other  local  teachers  of  minor  impor- 
tance, then  with  Clementi  and  Johann  Samuel 
Schroter,  who  succeeded  Johann  Christian  Bach 
as  music-master  to  the  queen.  Schroter  deserves 
to  be  remembered  even  in  so  cursory  a  review  as 
this,  for  the  authorities  agree  that  he  was  among 
the  first  teachers  to  disclose  the  possibilities  of  the 
pianoforte  as  distinguished  from  the  harpsichord. 
He  married  one  of  his  aristocratic  pupils,  who  soon 
tired  of  him  and  purchased  a  separation.  She 
became  a  pupil  of  Haydn  when  he  came  to  London 
and  formed  an  attachment  for  that  susceptible  old 
gentleman  which  found  rather  amusing  expression 
in  the  letters  which  I  gave  to  the  public  in  a  little 
book  published  in  1898.*  Like  Clementi,  Cramer 
combined  a  commercial  with  an  artistic  spirit;  he 
founded  the  music  publishing  house  of  J.  B. 
Cramer  &  Co.,  which  still  flourishes  in  London. 
Not  his  concert-pieces  but  his  works  of  instruction 
have  kept  his  name  alive.     In  his  compositions  de- 

'  "Music  and  Manners  in  the  Classical  Period."  New  York; 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 

143 


The  Composers 


signed  for  public  performances  he  reflects  the  shal- 
low taste  of  his  time;  but  he  was  an  admirable  vir- 
tuoso and  a  still  more  admirable  teacher.  His 
etudes  are  classics  and  in  vigorous  use  to-day. 
Henselt  published  fifty  of  them  with  accompani- 
ments for  a  second  pianoforte,  and  his  example  was 
followed  by  Henry  C.  Timm,  an  American  pianist 
and  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Philharmonic  Society 
of  New  York.  Dr.  von  Biilow  also  edited  half  a 
hundred  of  the  studies.  His  "Pianoforte  School" 
and  the  "School  of  Velocity"  have  been  published 
over  and  over  again. 

Clementi,  Dussek,  and  Cramer  have  disappeared 
from  our  concert-rooms,  but  Hummel  still  main- 
tains a  place  there  in  despite  of  the  radicals,  with 
his  concerto  in  A  minor  and  his  perennially  lovely 
septet.  "A  classic,  but  a  dull  classic,"  remarks 
Mr.  Edward  Dannreuther;  "Hummel's  piano- 
forte music  represents  the  true  pianoforte  style 
within  pure  and  noble  forms,"  says  Prosniz, 
"uniting  agreeable  and  solid  elegance  and  glitter- 
ing ornamentation  with  warmth  of  feeling,  which, 
however,  seldom  swings  itself  up  to  passionate  ex- 
pression. .  .  .  Trained  in  the  school  and  style  of 
Mozart,  he  thoroughly  developed  the  peculiarities 
of  the  pianoforte — its  beautiful  tone,  its  elegant 
and  pleasing  effects.  He  cultivated  gentle  song  and 
dainty,  often  coquettish  ornament."  So  far  as  it 
was  possible  in  one  whose  genius  was  of  a  subor- 

144 


FRANZ  LISZT. 
After  a  drawing  by  S.  Mittag. 


Classicism  and  the  Sonata 


dinate  order,  Hummel  was  a  continuator  of  Mozart, 
in  whose  house  he  Hved,  and  by  whom  he  was 
taught  for  two  years  as  a  lad.  He  recognized  his 
inability  to  keep  pace  with  the  heaven-storming 
Titan,  Beethoven,  and  so,  according  to  his  own 
confession,  he  resolved  not  to  try.  His  thoughts 
were  not  those  of  a  great  tone-poet,  but  those  of  a 
devotee  of  the  pianoforte.  In  a  manner  he  was  a 
worthy  precursor  of  Chopin  and  Liszt.  In  develop- 
ing the  varied  effects  and  euphony  of  his  instru- 
ment he  was  remarkably  successful;  and  he  reared 
a  monument  to  it  in  his  stupendous  school  with  its 
2,200  examples. 


145 


IX 

Beethoven— An  Intermezzo 

THE  characterization  of  Ludwig  van  Beethoven 
(1770-1827)  which  I  made  in  the  preceding 
chapter  (and  which  I  should  hke  to  have  accepted, 
not  as  mere  rhetorical  hyperbole,  but  as  sober  and 
very  truth)  justifies,  if  it  does  not  demand,  the  set- 
ting apart  of  a  special  chapter  for  the  consideration 
of  his  contribution  to  pianoforte  music.  The  con- 
tribution is  a  considerable  one,  though  in  bulk  it 
does  not  measure  up  with  the  product  of  some  of 
his  predecessors  or  the  virtuoso-composers  of  his 
own  period.  He  did  not  write  one-quarter  as  many 
concertos  as  Mozart;  he  wrote  only  half  as  many 
solo  sonatas  as  Clementi,  and  one-quarter  as  many 
sonatas  with  other  instruments  ohhligato  as  Dussek; 
but  as  music  his  contribution  surpasses  theirs,  as  it 
also  surpasses  all  that  has  been  written  by  any  com- 
poser since,  in  variety,  artistic  dignity  and  signifi- 
cance. In  using  the  qualifying  phrase  "as  music," 
it  is  intended  to  distinguish  Beethoven's  pianoforte 
compositions  from  works  whose  merit  lies  largely, 
if  not  chiefly,  in  their  specific  relationship  to  the 
instrument  for  which  they  were  conceived. 

146 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


The  point  of  view,  moreover,  is  that  of  to-day. 
No  critical  historian  need  hesitate  to  say  this,  or, 
saying  it,  beg  pardon  of  the  manes  of  Schubert, 
Schumann,  Mendelssohn,  or  Chopin.  Not  only  is 
the  climax  of  eleven  decades  of  pianoforte  music, 
as  of  eleven  decades  of  symphonic  and  chamber 
music,  still  to  be  found  in  Beethoven,  but  the  best 
example  in  each  of  the  categories  into  which  piano- 
forte music  may  be  divided  are  worthy  of  being 
classed  with  the  best  examples  of  the  other  depart- 
ments in  which  the  composer  is  acknowledged  to  be 
pre-eminent.  Only  the  best  examples,  of  course. 
In  the  large  form  of  the  symphony  and  the  mass,  in 
the  aristocratic  form  of  the  string  quartet,  there  was 
not  the  temptation  which  beset  him,  as  it  has  always 
beset  the  great,  to  write  much  and  print  freely  music 
which  affords  opportunities  for  the  dilettanti  to  dis- 
play their  accomplishments.  We  cannot  conceive 
the  writing  of  symphonies  or  quartets  as  potboilers: 
but  with  a  clamorous  public  and  importunate 
pubHshers  we  can  easily  conceive  such  a  thing 
in  the  case  of  pianoforte  pieces  even  when  the 
composer  is  a  Beethoven,  to  whom  writing  on 
commission  was  always  irksome  and  sometimes 
impossible.^ 

*  What  fate  sometimes  attended  the  writing  of  a  work  for  an 
occasion  we  see  in  the  history  of  the  Solemn  Mass  in  D,  which  was 
completed  three  years  after  the  installation  of  the  friend,  patron, 
and  pupil  whom  Beethoven  wished  to  honor  with  it. 

147 


The  Composers 


The  difference  in  merit,  therefore,  as  well  as  the 
limitations  set  for  these  studies,  compel  me  to 
choose  chiefly  two  classes  of  compositions  from 
which  to  deduce  Beethoven's  large  and  unique  sig- 
nificance— the  solo  sonatas  and  variations.  Of  the 
solo  sonatas  there  are  thirty-two,  not  counting  three 
which  were  written  when  Beethoven  was  a  boy  of 
eleven  years,  a  fragment  found  among  his  posthu- 
mous papers,  and  two  sonatinas.  Of  the  variations 
for  pianoforte  solo  there  are  twenty-three  sets.  His 
other  compositions  in  which  the  pianoforte  enters 
may  be  summarized  as  follows:  Seven  concertos  with 
orchestra  (counting  in  one  in  E-fiat  written  when  he 
was  fourteen  years  old,  and  a  transcription  of  the 
concerto  for  violin  made  by  himself) ;  one  concerto 
for  pianoforte,  violin,  violoncello,  and  orchestra;  a 
rondo  with  orchestra  (found  among  his  manuscripts 
after  his  death) ;  a  fantasie  for  pianoforte,  chorus, 
and  orchestra;  a  quintet  with  oboe,  clarinet,  horn, 
and  bassoon  (also  published  for  pianoforte  and 
strings);  three  quartets  with  strings,  nine  trios 
with  strings,  a  set  of  variations  with  strings  on  a 
melody  by  Wenzel  Miiller  ("Ich  bin  der  Schneider 
Kakadu");  ten  sonatas  with  violin,  a  rondo  with 
violin,  five  sonatas  with  violoncello,  three  sets  of 
variations  with  violoncello,  a  sonata  with  horn,  seven 
sets  of  variations  with  violin  (or  flute);  a  sonata, 
three  marches,  and  two  sets  of  variations  for  piano- 
forte (four  hands),  a  fantasia;   an  Andante  Favori 

148 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


in  F,  eight  cadenzas  for  his  own  concertos  and  two 
for  Mozart's  concerto  in  D  minor,  and  two  scores  or 
more  of  bagatelles,  preludes,  rondos,  dances,  etc. 
Though  monumental  labor  and  devotion  were  ex- 
pended on  the  "Complete  Edition"  {Gesammt 
Ausgahe)  of  his  works  published  by  Breitkopf  & 
Hartel,  of  Leipsic,  unpublished  manuscripts  are  still 
in  the  hands  of  private  collectors,  though  none  of 
those  known  is  of  critical  significance. 

I  have  called  Beethoven  a  master  builder  and 
arch  destroyer.  He  was,  indeed,  both;  but  he 
built  up  and  strengthened  what  is  essential  in  art 
and  destroyed  only  that  which  is  unessential.  His 
iconoclasm  did  not  have  the  purpose,  nor  was  it  of 
the  kind  which  ill-balanced  admirers  no  less  than 
ill-balanced  detractors  have  proclaimed  it  to  be. 
The  extremists  of  to-day  attempt  to  justify  by  ap- 
peal to  him,  or  his  example,  not  only  the  vagaries 
of  their  own  compositions,  but  their  strained  read- 
ings of  his  texts  and  the  changes  which  they  arro- 
gantly make  in  his  pages.  When  they  appeal  to 
him  as  the  destroyer  of  form  they  disclose  crass 
ignorance  of  one  of  his  highest  artistic  qualities; 
they  have  no  understanding  of  his  attitude  toward 
the  most  important  element  of  artistic  construction. 
It  was  not  form,  but  formalism,  or  formula,  which 
Beethoven  antagonized.  Nowhere  is  there  a  greater 
master  or  profounder  reverencer  of  constructive 
form  than  he. 

149 


The  Composers 


Why  should  the  question  be  beclouded?  There 
can  be  no  expression,  no  utterance  of  any  kind  in 
art  without  form.  Form  is  the  body  which  the 
spirit  of  music  creates  that  it  may  make  itself 
manifest.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  a  com- 
bination of  the  integral  elements  of  music  (melody, 
harmony,  and  rhythm)  in  a  beautiful  manner  with- 
out form  of  some  kind.  In  music  more  than  any 
other  art  form  is  necessary  to  the  existence  of  the 
highest  quality  of  beauty,  i.e.,  repose;  the  quality 
which  Ruskin  eloquently  describes  as  being  "the 
'I  am'  as  contradistinguished  from  the  'I  become'; 
the  sign  alike  of  the  supreme  knowledge  which  is 
incapable  of  surprise,  the  supreme  power  which 
is  incapable  of  labor,  the  supreme  volition  which  is 
incapable  of  change,"  Music  is  not  ineptly  spoken 
of  in  the  books  as  the  language  of  feeling;  and  there 
is  nothing  truer  than  that  it  gives  voice  to  things 
for  which  we  seek  in  vain  for  utterance  in  words. 
There  is  no  beautiful  speech  without  an  orderly 
arrangement  of  words  and  phrases — without  some 
kind  of  form.  Now,  if  this  degree  of  form  is  essen- 
tial to  speech,  which  deals  with  ideas,  how  much 
more  essential  must  it  be  to  music,  which  deals  with 
states  of  the  soul,  with  emotions,  which  is  a  language 
the  need  of  which  as  a  medium  of  expression  in  its 
highest  estate  does  not  arise  until  words  no  longer 
suffice  us  for  utterance!  Let  me  quote,  now,  some 
words  of  mine  from  an  earlier  writing;  the  thoughts 

150 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


are  apposite  here,  and  I  do  not  feel  that  I  could 
improve  on  the  manner  in  which  they  were  ex- 
pressed twenty  years  ago: 

When  the  composers  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago 
began  to  develop  instrumental  music  they  found  the  germ  of 
the  sonata  form — the  form  that  made  Beethoven's  symphonies 
possible — in  the  homely  dance-tunes  of  the  people,  which,  till 
then,  had  been  looked  upon  as  vulgar  things  wholly  outside 
the  domain  of  polite  art.  The  genius  of  the  masters  of  the 
last  century  (i.e.,  the  eighteenth)  moulded  this  form  of  plebeian 
ancestry  into  a  vessel  of  wonderful  beauty;  but  by  the  time 
this  had  been  done  the  capacity  of  music  as  an  emotional 
language  had  been  greatly  increased,  and  the  same  Romantic 
spirit  which  had  originally  created  the  dance-forms,  that  they 
might  embody  the  artistic  impulses  of  that  early  time,  sug- 
gested the  filling  of  the  vessel  with  the  new  contents.  When 
the  vessel  would  not  hold  these  new  contents  it  had  to  be 
widened.  New  bottles  for  new  wine.  That  is  the  whole 
mystery  of  what  conservative  critics  decry  as  the  destruction 
of  form  in  music.  It  is  not  destruction,  but  change.  When 
you  destroy  form  you  destroy  music,  for  the  musical  essence 
can  manifest  itself  only  through  form.' 

Until  Beethoven  came  the  sonata  was  a  beautiful 
vessel  whose  contents  were  pleasing  to  the  ear, 
gratifying  to  the  intellect  appreciative  of  symmetry 
and  the  display  of  ingenious  learning,  and  charming 
to  the  fancy.  "We  have  now  become  acquainted 
with  the  fluency  and  humor  of  Scarlatti,  Rameau, 
and  Couperin,  the  earnestness  of  Bach  and  Handel, 
the  grace,  elegance,  and  heartiness  of  Haydn  and 

*  "Studies  in  the  Wagnerian  Drama,"  by  H.  E.  Krehbiel,  p.  83. 
151 


The  Composers 


Mozart,"  said  Rubinstein  at  one  of  his  historical 
lecture-recitals  in  St.  Petersburg  in  1888,  "but  we 
have  not  yet  found  the  soul  of  music.  The  man 
who  filled  music  with  soul,  with  dreamings  and 
dramatic  life,  was  Beethoven,  The  music  which 
before  him  had  a  heart  had  no  soul.  It  is  often 
asserted  that  Beethoven  wrote  his  first  sonatas 
under  the  influence  of  Mozart  and  Haydn.  This 
I  deny  in  toto.  The  form,  the  manner  of  expression, 
the  style  were  inherited,  it  is  true,  but  not  as  an 
imitation  of  Haydn  and  Mozart,  but  as  the  expres- 
sion of  the  period";  and  later  Rubinstein  attempts 
to  account  for  the  new  contents  and  changed  man- 
ner of  expression  on  political  grounds  by  what  he 
calls  his  paradox:  "So  long  as  political  life  was  so 
constituted  that  the  state  cared  for  all  the  needs  of 
the  people  music  was  the  region  in  which  simplicity, 
joyousness,  and  ingenuousness  spread  their  wings. 
When  after  the  Revolution  man  had  to  care  for 
himself  music  became  dramatic.  Then  Beethoven 
came  to  be  the  interpreter  of  the  soul's  travail  and 
suffering — the  suffering  not  only  of  his  own  soul, 
but  also  that  of  his  people.  Every  man  takes  on 
the  color  of  his  period.  When  political  life  is  with- 
out pronounced  character,  when  it  becomes  color- 
less, then  music  becomes  characterless  and  pallid 
— as  it  is  now!^^ 

This  analogy  between  politics  and  art  has  often 
been  discussed  and  Beethoven  held  up  as  a  striking 

152 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


illustration  of  its  correctness.  He  certainly  was  the 
first  great  democrat  amongst  the  representatives  of 
his  art.  Before  his  time  the  greatest  musicians  no 
less  than  the  least  were  house  servants  of  the  politi- 
cally great.  Mozart  sat  high  at  the  table  (above 
the  cook  if  I  remember  rightly)  in  the  servants' 
hall  of  his  master  in  Vienna;  Haydn,  as  an  officer 
of  the  household  of  Prince  Esterhazy,  was  charged 
with  the  responsibility  of  looking  after  the  livery 
of  the  men  in  his  orchestra  as  well  as  their  habits 
and  behavior.  Beethoven  would  brook  no  mark  or 
suggestion  of  servitude  of  any  kind.  Whether  true 
or  not,  Bettina  von  Arnim's  story  of  the  rebuke 
which  he  administered  to  Goethe  when  the  two 
encountered  the  Austrian  emperor  in  the  park  is 
illuminative  and  characteristic;  and  it  is  very 
likely  that  once  he  remarked  to  a  prince:  "You 
are  what  you  are  by  accident  of  birth;  I  am  what 
I  am  by  the  grace  of  God!" 

Now,  such  a  man  would  as  little  accept  the  bond- 
age of  formula  in  his  artistic  utterance  as  the 
bondage  of  caste  in  social  fife.  "  Listen  to  Beetho- 
ven's Sonata  in  F  minor,"  says  Rubinstein  again: 
"the  old  elegance,  grace,  and  loveliness  have  given 
place  to  dramatic  and  passionate  expression.  Here 
we  see  the  gloomy  face,  seamed  with  pain,  which  is 
seldom  lighted  up  by  a  careless  or  merry  smile. 
The  Adagio,  because  of  its  sweetness  and  gentleness, 
is  nearer  the  old  period,  but  it  has  a  new  spirit. 
153 


The  Composers 


And  is  there  an  iota  in  the  last  movement  to  re- 
mind us  of  the  eighteenth  century  or  Haydn  and 
Mozart?"  It  is  the  individual  note  which  Rubin- 
stein emphasizes  here;  but  Beethoven  did  not  speak 
for  himself  alone.  He  was  the  poet  of  humanity; 
he  sang  all  its  present  joys  and  all  its  sorrows;  all 
its  aspirations,  its  tragedies,  its  earthly  environment 
and  its  glimpse  of  the  celestial.  ''DaUiance  with 
tones  here  becomes  tonal  speech,"  says  Prosniz, 
"and  in  this  speech  it  was  given  him  to  utter  the 
unutterable" — that  is  to  say,  that  which  is  unutter- 
able in  words.  To  Beethoven  music  was  not  only 
a  manifestation  of  the  beautiful,  that  is  art,  it 
was  also  akin  to  religion.  He  felt  himself  to  be 
a  prophet,  a  seer.  All  the  misanthropy,  seeming 
rather  than  real  (for  at  heart  he  was  a  sincere  and 
even  tender  lover  of  man),  engendered  by  his  deaf- 
ness and  his  unhappy  relations  with  mankind,  could 
not  shake  his  devotion  to  this  ideal  which  had 
sprung  from  truest  artistic  apprehension  and  been 
nurtured  by  enforced  introspection  and  philosophic 
reflection.^ 

Beethoven  was  a  conservator  of  form  always,  and 
even  of  formula  whenever  thought  and  the  con- 
ventional manner  of  expression  balanced  each  other; 
but  when  the  former  refused  to  go  into  the  old 
vessel  he  exercised  the  right  which  belongs  to  crea- 
tive genius — but  only  true  creative  genius — to 
^  See  the  author's  "Music  and  Manners,"  p.  237. 
IS4 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


widen  the  latter/  He  provided  new  bottles  for  the 
new  wine.  Like  Hans  Sachs  in  Wagner's  comedy, 
he  stood  between  the  apparently  warring  elements 
of  classicism  and  romanticism  as  I  shall  attempt 
to  define  them  in  the  next  chapter,  and  bravely  did 
battle  for  both — conserving  the  old,  but  regenerat- 
ing it  and  adapting  it  to  the  new  regime. 

We  have  taken  a  glance  at  the  impulses  which 
prompted  him  to  break  down  some  of  the  con- 
ventional barriers;  let  us  now  look  at  some  of  the 
devices  by  means  of  which  he  adapted  the  enlarged 
vessel  to  the  new  contents.  Weitzmann  in  his 
*'  Geschichte  des  Clavierspiels  "  likens  the  Beethoven 
sonata  to  a  trilogy,  or  tetralogy,  in  which  the  satyr 
play,  as  he  calls  the  scherzo,  has  a  part  but  as  a  mid- 
dle instead  of  a  final  member.  The  expository  part 
of  the  first  movement  contains  a  principal  subject 
with  which  are  associated  a  second  subject  and  one 
or  more  episodes  or  side-themes  which  are  in  har- 
mony with  the  mood  of  the  whole,  and  which,  them- 
selves organically  developed,  bind  together  the  prin- 
cipal themes.  Whereas  the  second  theme  of  this 
first  movement  formerly  entered  as  a  rule  in  the 
key  of  the  dominant  (or  in  the  relative  major  in 
the  case  of  minor  keys),  Beethoven  practised  the 
liberty  of  using  other  keys  which  bore  relationship  to 
the  original  tonality  for  the  sake  of  modulatory  con- 

*  Only  true  creative  genius.  Quid  licet  Jovi  non  licet  bovi 
should  never  be  forgotten. 


The  Composers 


trast.  In  the  second  division  of  the  movement, 
which  is  concerned  with  the  development  of  this 
material,  Beethoven  indulges  in  modulations  of 
great  daring,  touching  at  times  far  distant  keys, 
thus  stimulating  curiosity  concerning  the  return  of 
the  principal  subject,  and  by  contrapuntal  devices 
and  otherwise  stimulating  interest  and  not  infre- 
quently building  up  his  climaxes  in  this  develop- 
ment portion  which  English  writers  call  the  "free 
fantasia."  The  coda,  which  presents  the  principal 
material  of  the  movement  compressed  and  intensi- 
fied, also  affords  Beethoven  a  field  for  his  marvel- 
lously fertile  ingenuity.  In  it  he  likes  to  startle  the 
hearer  once  again  before  bringing  about  the  con- 
clusion for  which  ear  and  fancy  are  waiting. 

"Occasionally,"  says  Weitzmann,  "Beethoven 
arouses  the  highest  degree  of  expectancy  by  unusual 
resolutions  of  dissonances  and  deceptive  progres- 
sions. His  rhythms,  moreover,  veiling  the  metre, 
create  a  feeling  of  tensity  and  excitement,  but  the 
resting  places  for  the  fancy  and  the  emotions  are 
not  neglected,  and  we  are  never  wearied  by  too  long 
continued  deceptions  or  too  persistent  withholding 
of  that  which  is  expected."  The  same  writer  also 
directs  attention  to  the  labor  and  care  bestowed 
by  Beethoven  on  the  choice  and  development  of  his 
melodic  material.  His  compositions  always  con- 
tain melodies  which  are  complete  in  their  expression 
and  easily  grasped.     Sometimes  they  are  even  popu- 

156 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


lar  in  style,  and  for  that  reason  appeal  to  the  many 
who  are  able  to  follow  the  artistic  treatment  to 
which  the  tunes  are  subjected.  "The  adagio,  or 
andante,  in  Beethoven  has  either  the  extended  form 
of  the  first  movement  (the  sonata  form),  with  a 
recurring  episode  in  the  second  part,  or  the  song 
form,  with  one  or  more  contrasting  themes,  which 
appear  but  once,  or  it  constitutes  the  introduction 
to  the  movement  which  follows.  The  movement, 
lively,  bright,  good-humored,  humorous,  called  the 
minuet  or  scherzo,  which  had  already  received  a 
place  in  the  sonata  scheme,  first  received  a  contour 
appropriate  to  the  character  of  the  composition  as  a 
whole  through  Beethoven.  In  connection  with  this 
it  is  edifying  to  compare  the  structures  created  espe- 
cially to  this  end  by  Beethoven,  such  as  the  march- 
like movement  in  the  A  major  Sonata,  Op.  loi; 
the  Scherzo  of  the  B-flat  Sonata,  Op.  io6,  and  the 
Allegro  molto  of  the  Sonata  Op.  no." 

The  Scherzo,  as  everybody  knows,  is  the  offspring 
of  the  minuet.  It  appears  in  the  first  three  Sonatas, 
Op.  2,  dedicated  to  Haydn,  under  whose  bewitching 
hand,  as  may  be  seen  in  some  of  the  string  quartets, 
the  old-fashioned  dance  had  already  received  the 
impulse  toward  what  it  became  under  Beethoven; 
but  it  was  the  latter  who  eventually  gave  it  a  stu- 
pendous import  in  his  symphonies,  such  as  Haydn 
never  could  have  dreamed  of.  How  the  strange 
quality  of  Beethoven's  humor  affected  this  jocose 

157 


The  Composers 


movement  in  the  sonatas,  and  some  of  the  sonatas 
themselves,  is  thus  pointed  out  by  Selmar  Bagge: 
"As  Beethoven  was  always  the  enemy  of  formula, 
he  sometimes  introduced  this  element  of  humor  into 
the  slow  movement  and  then  omitted  the  scherzo, 
as  in  the  Sonata  in  G  major  (Op.  31,  No.  i);  or  he 
gave  the  minuet  the  character  of  emotional  contrast, 
as  in  the  E-flat  Sonata  (Op.  31,  No.  3);  or  he 
imbued  the  scherzo  movement,  despite  its  rapid  3-4 
time,  with  a  serio-fantastic  spirit,  in  which  case  the 
adagio  was  dispensed  with,  as  in  the  Sonatas  in  F 
major  (Op.  10,  No.  2)  and  E  major  (Op.  14,  No.  i) ." 
The  conventional  finale  before  Beethoven  was 
either  a  rondo  or  a  minuet.  In  Beethoven's  sonatas 
it  is  sometimes  a  rondo,  in  which  a  principal  theme 
appears  three,  four,  or  more  times  in  alternation 
with  various  episodes,  side  themes,  and  develop- 
ments; sometimes  it  has  the  sonata  form;  some- 
times the  principal  theme  is  treated  as  a  free  fugue; 
sometimes  it  blossoms  into  a  series  of  variations,  as 
in  the  Sonatas  Op.  109  and  iii.  It  is  in  the  high- 
est degree  noteworthy  that  in  the  last  five  sonatas 
there  is  a  return  to  a  multiplicity  of  movements 
(though  there  are  only  two  in  the  transcendent  one 
in  C  minor.  Op.  11 1,  the  last  of  all)  and  that  in 
these  there  is  less  intimation  of  a  drama  playing  on 
the  stage  of  the  individual  human  heart  than  of  a 
projection  of  the  imagination  into  the  realm  of 
cosmic  ideality.     Beethoven  was  frequently  trans- 

158 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


figured,  but  never  so  completely  as  in  some  mo- 
ments of  these  great  works  with  which  he  said  almost 
his  last  word  on  the  pianoforte.  In  the  finale  of 
Op.  Ill  he  soars  heavenward  like  a  skylark  in  the 
rapture  of  the  variations.  He  is  " in  the  spirit"  like 
John  on  the  isle  of  Patmos.  With  the  first  move- 
ment of  this  sonata  he  carries  us  to  the  theatre  in 
which  the  last  scene  in  Goethe's  "Faust"  plays — 
the  higher  regions  of  this  sphere,  where  earth  and 
heaven  meet  as  they  seem  to  do  at  times  in  the  high 
Alps.  There  we  hear  the  song  of  the  Pater  Pro- 
fundis,  and  thence  we  begin  the  ascent  to  the  celes- 
tial realms  above.  The  variations  are  the  songs  of 
the  Pater  Ecstaiicus,  Blessed  Boys,  Penitents,  and 
Angels,  who  soar  higher  and  higher,  carrying  with 
them  the  immortal  soul  of  Faust. 

It  would  require  a  detailed  analysis  of  a  majority 
of  the  sonatas  to  point  out  all  the  significant  in- 
stances in  which  Beethoven  changed,  extended,  and 
enriched  the  sonata  form  as  it  had  been  handed 
down  to  him.  There  is  no  steadily  progressive  de- 
velopment to  be  traced  in  the  sequence  of  the  opus 
numbers,  for  they  are  not  always  chronological 
records;  nor  in  the  times  of  composition,  for,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  symphonies,  there  is  a  rising  and 
falling  of  the  emotional  waters,  and  a  portrayal  of 
either  profound  or  exalted  feelings  may  be  followed 
by  a  composition  in  which  amiable  dalliance  with 
tones  is  the  be-all  and  end-all  of  the  work.    More- 

159 


The  Composers 


over,  Beethoven's  activities  were  dispersed  over  too 
wide  a  field  to  permit  that  each  new  production 
should  show  such  a  step  forward  as  we  observe  in 
the  lyric  dramas  of  Wagner  and  Verdi.  Yet  it 
ought  not  to  be  overlooked  that  as  the  quality  of 
dramatic  expression  grew  more  and  more  dominant 
in  Beethoven's  art  the  element  of  unity  was  em- 
phasized. Now  the  development  of  melodies  gives 
place  in  a  large  measure  to  the  development  of 
motivi  such  as  is  also  exemplified  in  the  E-flat, 
C  minor,  and  D  minor  symphonies.  Also,  as  has 
been  intimated,  movements  which  might  interfere 
with  the  psychological  unity  of  all  the  parts  are 
omitted.  The  familiar  "  Andante  Favori "  in  F  was 
originally  written  for  the  Sonata  in  C,  Op.  53.  So 
says  Ries,  who  adds  that  Beethoven  substituted  the 
present  slow  introduction  to  the  final  rondo  for  it 
when  it  was  pointed  out  to  him  that  the  andante 
would  make  the  work  too  long.  A  much  likelier 
explanation  is  that  Beethoven  felt  that  its  associa- 
tion with  two  such  movements  as  the  allegro  con 
brio  and  the  allegretto  moderato  would  be  an 
artistic  mesalliance. 

As  the  poetical,  or  emotional,  contents  deter- 
mined the  number  of  movements,  their  relative 
disposition,  and  the  modification  of  their  forms,  so 
also  it  led  to  the  introduction  of  new  or  unusual 
forms.  So  the  stories  of  the  two  sonatas,  Op.  27, 
are  told  in  a  rhapsodical  way  {quasi  fantasia)  and 
160 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


in  the  slow  movement  of  the  great  Sonata  in  A-flat, 
Op.  no,  a  fragment  of  recitative,  such  as  had 
already  been  employed  in  the  Sonata  in  D  minor 
(Op.  31,  No.  2)  many  years  before,  becomes  an  ele- 
ment in  a  vocal  form.  This  adagio  is  a  scena,  an 
arioso  with  an  introduction  in  which  we  may  hear 
(if  we  wish  so  to  exercise  our  fancy)  at  first  an  or- 
chestral introduction,  then  a  voice  speaking  in  the 
declamatory  style  of  the  recitative,  then  the  two 
flowing  together  as  cantilena  and  accompaniment. 
Whatever  the  shape  and  dimensions  of  the  vessel, 
however,  it  is  to  be  kept  in  view  that  they  were 
determined  by  the  contents  which  Beethoven 
poured  into  it. 

We  have  ample  evidence  that  Beethoven  per- 
mitted impressions  made  on  his  mind  by  external 
things  to  influence  his  music — by  natural  scenes, 
happenings,  and  sounds.  Thus,  the  murmur  of 
a  brook  prompted  the  observation  in  a  note-book, 
"The  deeper  the  water  the  graver  the  tone";  the 
clatter  of  a  horse's  hoofs,  Ries  says,  suggested  the 
theme  of  the  finale  of  the  Sonata  in  D  minor.  Op.  31, 
No.  2 ;  he  caught  the  motif  oi  the  C  minor  symphony 
from  a  bird.  But  in  his  sonatas  he  was  not  a  pro- 
grammist  in  the  crude  sense  of  an  imitator  of 
sounds  or  user  of  the  device  of  association  of  ideas. 
The  principle  which  he  followed  was  always  that 
expressed  in  the  words  which  he  inscribed  on  the 
score  of  the  "Pastoral"  symphony:    "More  an  ex- 

161 


The  Composers 


pression  of  feeling  than  delineation."  He  was 
chary  about  giving  even  a  hint  of  the  ideas  or 
feelings  which  had  prompted  his  music,  either  by 
writing  titles  or  by  word  of  mouth.  Schindler  says 
that  in  1816  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  make  ar- 
rangements for  the  publication  of  a  revised  edition 
of  his  sonatas  for  pianoforte,  being  influenced  in 
this  determination  by  three  considerations,  viz., 
first,  "to  indicate  the  poetic  ideas  which  form  the 
groundwork  of  many  of  those  sonatas,  thereby  facili- 
tating the  comprehension  of  the  music  and  deter- 
mining the  style  of  the  performance;  secondly,  to 
adapt  all  his  previously  published  pianoforte  com- 
positions to  the  extended  scale  of  the  pianoforte  of 
six  and  one-half  octaves,  and,  thirdly,  to  define  the 
nature  of  musical  declamation." 

There  is  plausibility  at  least  in  the  suggestion 
that  Beethoven  entertained  the  second  and  third 
considerations;  but  the  first  not  only  flies  in  the 
face  of  Beethoven's  consistent  conduct,  but  is  at 
variance  with  an  experience  which  Schindler  him- 
self had,  as  we  shall  see  presently.  If  Beethoven 
ever  felt  disposed  to  give  verbal  interpretations  to 
his  sonatas  he  must  have  given  them  to  the  pupils 
and  patrons  to  whom  he  dedicated  them;  and  had 
he  done  this  we  would  surely  have  had  the  poeti- 
cal glosses  handed  down  to  us.  Sometimes  when 
directly  asked  about  his  meanings  he  replied  enig- 
matically.    The  "Pastoral"  symphony  is  most  in- 

162 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


dubitably  programme  music,  yet  Beethoven's  note- 
books contain  almost  pathetic  evidence  of  his  desire 
that  it  should  not  be  thought  that  in  it  he  had 
dropped  into  realism.  "All  painting  in  instru- 
mental music,  if  pushed  tfco  far,  is  a  failure,"  is  a 
note  found  among  his  sketches;  "People  will  not 
require  titles  to  recognize  the  general  intention  to 
be  more  a  matter  of  feeling  than  of  painting  in 
sounds,"  is  another. 

Much  mischief  has  been  made  by  titles  which 
publishers  and  others  have  given  to  works  without 
the  sanction  of  the  composer.  It  was  not  Beeth- 
oven who  called  the  Sonata  in  F  minor  "Appas- 
sionata,"  or  that  in  C-sharp  minor  (Op.  27,  No.  2) 
"Moonhght,"  or  that  in  D  major  (Op.  28)  "Pas- 
torale." There  is  some  appositeness  in  the  first  and 
last  of  these  designations,  and  in  the  case  of  persons 
gifted  with  healthy  intellectual  and  aesthetic  stom- 
achs they  do  no  harm;  but  others  are  led  by  them 
to  think  foolish  things  of  Beethoven  and  to  play  his 
music  in  a  silly  manner.  The  Sonata  in  C-sharp 
minor  has  asked  many  a  tear  from  gentle  souls 
who  were  taught  to  hear  in  its  first  movement  a 
lament  for  unrequited  love  and  reflected  that  it  was 
dedicated  to  the  Countess  Giulietta  Guicciardi,  for 
whom  Beethoven  assuredly  had  a  tender  feeling. 
Moonlight  and  the  plaint  of  an  unhappy  lover — 
how  affecting!  But  Beethoven  did  not  compose 
the  sonata  for  the  countess,  though  he  inscribed  it 
163 


The  Composers 


to  her.  He  had  given  her  a  rondo,  and  wishing  to 
dedicate  it  to  another  pupil  he  asked  for  its  return 
and  in  exchange  sent  the  sonata.  Moreover,  it  ap- 
pears from  evidence  scarcely  to  be  gainsaid  that 
Beethoven  never  intended  the  C-sharp  minor  sonata 
as  a  musical  expression  of  love,  unhappy  or  other- 
wise. In  a  letter  dated  January  22,  1892  (for  a 
copy  of  which  I  am  indebted  to  Fraulein  Lipsius 
[La  Mara],  to  whom  it  is  addressed),  Alexander  W. 
Thayer,  the  greatest  of  Beethoven's  biographers, 
says:  "That  Mr.  Kalischer  has  adopted  Ludwig 
Nohl's  strange  notion  of  Beethoven's  infatuation 
for  Therese  Malfatti,  a  girl  of  fourteen  years,  sur- 
prises me;  as  also  that  he  seems  to  consider  the 
Cis-moll  Sonate  to  be  a  musical  love  poem  addressed 
to  Julia  Guicciardi.  He  ought  certainly  to  know 
that  the  subject  of  that  sonata  was — or  rather,  that 
it  was  suggested  by — Seume's  little  poem  'Die 
Beterin.' "  The  poem  referred  to  describes  a  maiden 
kneeling  at  the  high  altar  in  prayer  for  the  recovery 
of  a  sick  father.  Her  sighs  and  petitions  ascend 
with  the  smoke  of  incense  from  the  censers,  angels 
come  to  her  aid,  and  at  the  last  the  face  of  the  sup- 
pliant one  glows  with  the  transfiguring  light  of  hope. 
The  poem  has  little  to  commend  it  as  an  example  of 
literary  art  and  it  is  not  as  easy  to  connect  it  in  fancy 
with  the  last  movement  of  the  sonata  as  with  the 
first  and  second;  but  the  evidence  that  Beethoven 
paid  it  the  tribute  of  his  music  seems  conclusive. 

164 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


As  for  the  epithet  "Moonlight,"  it  seems  to  owe  its 
existence  to  a  comparison  made  by  a  critic  (Rellstab) 
of  its  first  movement  to  a  boat  rocking  on  the  waves 
of  Lucerne  on  a  moonht  evening.  Many  years  ago 
a  picture  on  the  title-page  of  an  edition  led  the 
Viennese  to  call  it  the  Lauhensonate  (Arbor  Sonata), 
the  picture  evidently  referring  or  giving  rise  to  a 
story  of  its  composition  in  an  arbor. 

Rubinstein  was  unwilling  to  accept  "Moonlight" 
as  a  characteristic  title,  because,  though  the  sonata 
is  nominally  in  a  minor  key,  its  music  is  predomi- 
nantly major,  and  he  was  glad  that  Beethoven  was 
not  responsible  for  the  designation.  He  also  ob- 
jected to  the  title  "Pathetique"  for  the  Sonata  in 
C  minor,  Op.  13,  though  this  has  the  composer's 
sanction.  "  Only  the  adagio  might  be  said  to  justify 
the  title,"  says  Rubinstein;  "the  other  movements 
develop  so  much  action,  so  much  dramatic  life,  that 
the  sonata  might  better  have  been  called  'dra- 
matic.'" 

The  Sonata  in  F  minor  has  long  been  called 
"Appassionata."  Is  there  any  appositeness  here? 
Passionate  the  music  assuredly  is;  but  in  what  di- 
rection ?  Is  there  a  passion  of  contemplative  pray- 
erfulness  ?  If  not,  how  can  the  epithet  apply  to  the 
second  movement,  with  its  transfigured  resignation, 
its  glimpse  into  the  celestial  regions,  into  which 
Beethoven's  soul  soared  so  often  when  its  pinions 
took  a  slow  and  measured  movement?  Then,  if 
165 


The  Composers 


shallow  passions  murmur  ''but  the  deep  are 
dumb,"  as  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  said,  are  the  pas- 
sions which  not  only  murmur  but  mutter  and  swell 
and  roar  in  this  sonata  shallow?  No  one  shall 
think  it  who  hears  the  music.  The  epithet  is  mis- 
leading because  it  is  inconclusive  and  vague,  though 
it  is  not  as  harmful  as  its  companion,  "Moonlight," 
which  term  has  not  only  given  rise  to  a  multitude  of 
foolish  interpretations,  as  I  have  intimated,  but  also 
to  a  multitude  of  apocryphal  stories  which  in  some 
instances  have  got  into  and  disfigured  biographies 
of  the  great  composer. 

Schindler  relates  that  once  when  he  asked  Beeth- 
oven to  tell  him  what  the  F  minor  and  D  minor 
(Op.  31,  No.  2)  sonatas  meant  he  received  only  the 
oracular  answer,  "Read  Shakespeare's  'Tempest.'" 
Many  a  student  and  commentator  has  no  doubt 
since  then  read  "The  Tempest"  in  the  hope  of  find- 
ing a  clew  to  the  emotional  contents  which  Beeth- 
oven's utterance  indicates  had  received  expres- 
sion in  the  two  works  so  singularly  brought  into 
relationship;  has  read  and  been  bafifled.  But  are 
there  no  tempests  except  those  created  by  the  ele- 
ments of  nature?  What  else  were  those  psycho- 
logical struggles  which  Beethoven  felt  called  upon 
more  and  more  to  delineate  as  he  was  more  and 
more  shut  out  from  companionship  with  the  external 
world  and  its  denizens?  Such  struggles  are  in  the 
truest  sense  of  the  word  tempests. 

166 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


The  tempest  in  my  mind 
Doth  from  my  sense  take  all  feeling  else 
Save  what  beats  there. 

And  one  shall  scarcely  attempt  to  find  verbal 
symbols  for  the  music  of  the  first  and  last  move- 
ments of  the  sonata  without  being  thrown  back  on 
the  familiar  one  of  night  and  storm.  The  chief 
trouble  caused  by  Beethoven's  dark  hint  is  that  it 
invites  us  to  find  in  the  sonatas  delineation  of  a 
sequence  of  events,  external  and  internal,  such  as 
we  see  in  Shakespeare's  comedy  of  enchantment. 
But  Beethoven  sometimes  liked  to  talk  in  riddles, 
and  was  so  frequently  lost  in  profound  broodings 
that  it  is  possible  he  did  not  mean  his  words  to  be 
accepted  as  literally  and  comprehensively  as  his 
Boswell  wanted  to  accept  them.  It  is  even  pos- 
sible that  the  question  merely  brought  up  a  fleeting 
memory  of  the  mood  of  the  last  movement  and  the 
circumstances  of  its  composition.  Ries  is  authority 
for  the  statement  that  once  (it  must  have  been  in 
the  summer  of  1804)  while  he  was  walking  with 
Beethoven  they  wandered  so  far  into  the  country 
that  it  was  nearly  8  o'clock  before  they  got  back  to 
Dobling,  where  Beethoven  was  living  at  the  time. 
During  the  walk  Beethoven  alternately  kept  hum- 
ming and  howling  up  and  down  the  scale  without 
reference  to  any  particular  intervals.  When  asked 
the  meaning  of  this  he  replied  that  the  theme  of 
the  final  allegro  of  his  sonata  had  occurred  to  him. 
167 


The  Composers 


His  conduct  indicated  that  he  was  in  a  state  of 
emotional  excitement — again  a  storm,  a  struggle, 
but  one  of  the  human  soul,  not  of  the  earth. 

It  was  only  when  saying  farewell  to  the  piano- 
forte in  the  last  group  of  sonatas  that  Beethoven 
made  large  use  of  the  polyphonic  forms;  but  to 
another  form  he  paid  tribute  all  through  his  career. 
It  is  that  of  the  theme  and  variations.  He  was  ten 
years  old  when  he  wrote  variations  on  a  march  by 
Dressier;  he  was  fifty-three  when  he  put  the  cap- 
stone on  his  creations  in  this  form  by  his  "  Thirty- 
three  Variations  on  a  Waltz  by  Diabelh"  (Op.  120). 
The  variation  form  is  old;  it  suggests  reflection, 
technical  skill,  formahsm;  yet  Beethoven  made  it 
as  perfect  a  vehicle  for  soulful  poetizing  as  he  had 
made  the  free  fantasias  in  his  sonatas  and  sym- 
phonies. In  the  old  conception  of  the  form,  one 
which  left  the  theme  after  all  its  embellishments 
essentially  what  it  had  been  at  the  beginning,  it 
may  be  said  to  have  reached  its  culmination  in 
Bach.  Beethoven  breathed  a  new  hfe  into  it  and 
lifted  it  to  a  height  which  no  composer  has  been 
able  to  reach  since.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said  that 
only  three  of  his  successors  have  been  able  to  apply 
his  ideat  methods — Mendelssohn  in  his  "Varia- 
tions serieuses,"  Schumann  in  his  "Etudes  sym- 
phoniques,"  and  Brahms  in  his  variations  on 
themes  by  Handel,  Paganini,  Schumann,  and  him- 
self.    Beethoven's  purpose  in  his  variations  was 

168 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


not,  like  that  of  the  composers  who  preceded  and 
the  majority  of  those  who  followed  him,  simply  to 
present  a  theme  in  a  series  of  structural  metamor- 
phoses: he  aimed  to  exhibit  it  in  its  potential  poet- 
ical phases,  to  give  an  exposition  of  the  various 
moods  which  his  penetrative  mind  and  exuberant 
fancy  saw  latent  within  it.  It  was  as  if  one  having 
a  beautiful  diamond  should  successively  present 
each  of  its  many  facets  to  view  so  that  the  changes 
in  diffraction  might  reveal  all  the  gem's  wealth  of 
beauty  in  the  light  best  calculated  to  make  that 
beauty  evident. 

It  is  the  testimony  of  practically  all  of  Beethoven's 
contemporaries  who  have  left  a  record  of  their  im- 
pressions of  his  pianoforte  playing  that  it  was  in 
his  improvisations  that  his  genius  shone  most 
refulgent.  In  the  friendly  competitions  which  were 
a  common  feature  of  the  artistic  life  of  his  time  he 
again  and  again  met  rivals  whose  technical  skill 
upon  the  keyboard  was  admittedly  as  great  if  not 
greater  than  his  own;  but  he  met  no  one  who  could 
improvise  upon  a  given  theme  as  he  could.  And  it 
would  appear  as  if  sometimes  something  else  than 
the  mere  beauty  of  a  theme  would  fire  his  fancy. 
There,  for  instance,  is  the  story,  often  told,  of  his 
meetings  with  the  redoubtable  Steibelt.  It  was  at 
the  house  of  Count  Fries  in  Vienna  in  1800.  At  the 
first  meeting  Beethoven  produced  his  Trio  in  B-flat 
for  pianoforte,  clarinet,  and  violoncello  (Op.  11), 

169 


The  Composers 


and  Steibelt  a  quintet  for  a  pianoforte  and  strings. 
After  these  set  pieces  Steibelt  yielded  to  the  requests 
of  the  company  and  won  rapturous  applause  by  an 
exhibition  of  a  fetching  trick  in  arpeggios  which 
was  one  of  the  catch-penny  specialties  of  this  char- 
latan. Beethoven  could  not  be  persuaded  to  touch 
the  pianoforte  a  second  time  that  evening.  A  week 
later  there  was  a  second  meeting,  at  which  Steibelt 
surprised  the  company  with  a  new  quintet,  and  an 
obviously  prepared  improvisation  consisting  of  vari- 
ations on  a  theme  which  Beethoven  had  varied  in 
the  trio  played  at  the  first  meeting.  Such  a  chal- 
lenge was  too  obvious  to  be  overlooked  and  Beeth- 
oven's friends  demanded  that  he  take  up  the 
gauntlet.  At  length  he  went  to  the  pianoforte, 
picked  up  the  bass  part  of  Steibel's  quintet,  set  it 
upside  down  on  the  music  desk,  nonchalantly 
drummed  out  the  first  few  measures  of  the  bass 
with  one  finger,  and  began  to  improvise  upon  the 
motif  thus  obtained.  Soon  the  guests  were  listening 
in  wonderment,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  performance 
Steibelt  left  the  room  and  never  again  attended  a 
soiree  at  which  Beethoven  was  expected  to  be 
present. 

It  is  impossible  to  imagine  the  marvellous  music 
which  must  frequently  have  been  struck  out  in  this 
manner  when  Beethoven's  imagination  was  at  white 
heat;  but  the  incident  recalls  not  only  his  fecund 
skill  in  developing  large  and  beautiful  ideas  out  of 

170 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


apparently  insignificant  but  really  pregnant  motivi 
but  also  his  skill  in  writing  beautiful  basses.  The 
theme  of  the  variations  which  make  up  the  finale  of 
the  "Eroica"  symphony  is  also  the  theme  of  a  set 
of  variations  for  the  pianoforte  (in  E-flat,  Op.  35) 
and  the  melody  of  the  finale  of  the  ballet  "Die 
Geschopfe  des  Prometheus."  In  its  original  form 
it  is  a  little  contradance  which  Beethoven  may  have 
written  as  early  as  1795.  In  the  pianoforte  varia- 
tions, as  in  the  symphonic,  Beethoven  begins  with 
the  bass  and  introduces  the  melody  as  a  counter- 
point upon  it;  thereafter  it  remains  the  theme 
with  the  bass  as  an  ostinato.  "A  musician  is 
known  by  his  basses"  might  well  be  set  down  as  an 
axiom.  "In  the  Sonata  Op.  7,"  said  Rubinstein  in 
one  of  his  historical  lectures,  "  the  bass  of  the  Largo 
alone  is,  in  my  opinion,  worth  twice  as  much  as 
(many)  a  whole  sonata." 

Of  the  transporting  effect  of  the  variations  in 
Op.  Ill  I  have  already  spoken.  In  cherubic  union 
with  them  stand  the  variations  in  the  Sonata  Op. 
109.  Both  sets,  though  their  flight  into  the  upper 
ether  is  infinitely  greater,  may  be  said  to  have  had 
their  prototype  in  the  variations  which  begin  the 
Sonata  in  A-flat,  Op.  26.  "  A  Titanic  creation  with- 
out parallel,"  says  Rubinstein,  speaking  of  the 
"Thirty-three  Variations  on  a  Waltz  by  Diabelh," 
and  he  goes  on:  "What  the  Ninth  is  among  the 
symphonies  and  the  Op.  106  among  the  sonatas 
171 


The  Composers 


these  variations  are  among  all  others."  The  origin 
of  the  composition  is  as  singular  as  it  is  diverting. 
Diabelli,  the  pubhsher  of  many  of  Beethoven's  com- 
positions, conceived  a  happy  idea  for  a  stroke  of 
business.  He  wrote  a  simple  waltz  melody  and 
then  asked  fifty  musicians  whose  names  were  famil- 
iar to  his  patrons  to  write  variations  on  his  bantling 
— Beethoven  among  them.  It  was  1823,  the  year 
which  saw  the  completion  of  the  Symphony  in  D 
minor  with  its  choral  finale  on  Schiller's  "  Ode  to 
Joy."  Imagine  what  must  have  been  the  amaze- 
ment of  Diabelli  when  he  received  from  Beethoven 
not  one  variation  but  thirty-three,  and  when  he 
recognized,  as  he  did,  that  his  inconsequential  tune 
had  become  the  germ  of  an  unrivalled  masterpiece.^ 
On  his  last  visit  to  America  Dr.  von  Biilow  played 
these  variations  in  New  York  at  his  concerts  in 
which  he  produced  the  last  five  sonatas.  To  his 
penetrative  mind  it  had  been  disclosed  that,  as  Dr. 
Bie  says,  the  variations  "  constitute  an  inner  drama" 
like  the  sonatas.  He  provided  each  with  a  title  in 
the  manner  of  Schumann's  "Carnival."     To  con- 

^  In  the  publisher's  announcement  of  the  work  occurred  these 
words:  "The  most  original  forms  and  thoughts,  the  most  daring 
turns  and  harmonies  are  exhausted  in  this  work;  all  utilized  for 
pianoforte  effects  based  on  a  solid  style  of  playing.  The  work  is 
made  especially  interesting  by  the  fact  that  it  was  created  on  a 
theme  which  no  one  else  would  have  deemed  capable  of  treatment 
in  a  style  in  which  our  exalted  master  stands  alone  among  his  con- 
temporaries." 

172 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


tinue  with  Dr.  Bie:  "The  variations  are  a  last  will 
and  testament  as  were  the  Goldberg  Variations  of 
Bach.  From  melody  to  canon,  from  gloom  to 
parody,  from  archaism  to  anticipation  of  the  future, 
from  popularity  to  the  philosophy  of  the  hermit, 
from  mysticism  to  dance,  from  technical  glitter  to 
the  mystery  of  enharmonics,  they  lead  us  along 
three-and-thirty  paths  to  different  realms." 

Something  remains  to  be  said  about  the  influence 
of  the  mechanism  of  the  pianoforte  as  it  existed  in 
his  day  on  the  music  which  Beethoven  wrote  for  the 
instrument.  Sketches  have  been  found,  dating 
from  about  1785  to  1795,  which  indicate  that  he 
had  it  in  mind  to  write  a  pianoforte  method.  In 
his  childhood,  no  doubt,  he  studied  on  the  clavi- 
chord, which  was  not  only  in  common  use  among 
the  poorer  classes,  but  preferred  to  the  harpsichord 
for  purposes  of  instruction.  In  the  Elector's 
chapel  and  the  theatre  at  Bonn  he  played  upon  the 
harpsichord  as  well  as  organ.  Carl  Czerny,  in  his 
"Outline  of  the  Entire  History  of  Music"  {Umriss 
der  ganzen  Musikgeschichte)  published  in  185 1,  says: 

Until  1770  clavier  music  existed  only  for  harpsichord  and 
clavichord.  About  this  time  the  pianoforte  {Hammer- 
clavier)  gradually  became  known.  Very  imperfect  at  first,  it 
soon  began  to  excel  the  other  keyed  instruments,  and  in  1800 
clavichords  and  harpsichords  w^ere  already  completely  dis- 
possessed. Clementi  and  Beethoven  (between  1790  and 
1810),  by  their  demands  on  the  performer,  contributed  much 

173 


The  Composers 


to  the  perfection  of  the  pianoforte  and,  in  London,  Clementi 
took  part  also  in  its  manufacture.  The  pedals,  previously 
called  mutations,  came  into  use  about  1802. 

From  Junker  we  know  that  Beethoven  used  one  of 
the  pianofortes  made  by  Stein  (which  had  received 
the  approval  of  Mozart  in  1777)  before  he  left  Bonn. 
These  instruments  had  a  damper  pedal,  though  it 
was  at  first  operated  by  the  knee  in  the  manner  of 
the  swell  on  a  cabinet,  or  "American,"  organ. 
About  1800  Beethoven  used  an  instrument  made  by 
Walther  and  Streicher.  In  1803  he  received  an 
Erard  from  Paris  and  in  December,  1817,  a  Broad- 
wood  from  London.  In  his  room  at  the  time  of 
his  death  stood  an  instrument  specially  built  for 
him  by  Graf,  a  Viennese  manufacturer.  It  had 
four  unison  strings  throughout  the  scale,  and  Graf 
also  built  a  resonator,  shaped  somewhat  like  a  theat- 
rical prompter's  box,  to  enable  the  deaf  man  to  hear 
himself  play.  This  interesting  relic  is  now  the 
property  of  the  Beethovenhaus  Verein  and  is  pre- 
served in  the  museum  established  by  that  society 
in  the  composer's  native  city.  The  English  in- 
strument was  the  gift  of  Ferdinand  Ries,  J.  B. 
Cramer,  G.  G.  Ferrari,  C.  Knyvett,  and  Broad- 
wood,  in  1818.  At  the  sale  of  Beethoven's  posses- 
sions after  his  death  it  was  bought  by  Spina,  the 
publisher,  who  gave  it  to  Liszt  in  1845.  ^^  is  now 
in  the  National  Museum  at  Budapest,  to  which 
institution   it   was   presented    by   Princess   Marie 

174 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


Hohenlohe,  daughter  of  Liszt's  friend,  the  Princess 
Sayn- Wittgenstein.  The  action  of  all  these  instru- 
ments was  light,  the  dip  of  the  keys  shallow.  All 
of  them,  it  would  also  seem,  had  two  damper 
pedals,  one  controlling  the  hammers  of  the  upper 
half,  the  other  those  of  the  lower  half  of  the  key- 
board. The  manuscript  of  the  so-called  "Wald- 
stein"  sonata  (Op.  53)  contains  this  note  in 
Beethoven's  handwriting:  "N.  B.  When  'ped'  is 
marked  all  the  dampers,  both  bass  and  treble 
(Discant),  are  to  be  raised.  *0'  means  that  they 
are  to  be  released,"  It  was  possible,  therefore,  at 
that  time  to  play  with  dampers  on  in  one  part  of 
the  keyboard  and  off  in  the  other,  a  device  which 
must  have  been  of  assistance  in  the  production  of 
an  effective  cantilena. 

Some  of  the  instruments  used  by  Beethoven  con- 
tained two  shifting  pedals,  or  two  movements  of  a 
single  pedal,  to  move  the  hammers  from  the  three 
unisons  to  two  strings  {dtce  corde)  or  one  string 
{una  corda)  at  will.  Beethoven  seems  to  have  been 
the  first  composer  to  appreciate  the  beautiful  effect 
of  the  sympathetic  vibrations  of  the  unstruck 
unisons,  as  we  see  in  the  slow  movement  of  the 
G  major  concerto,  composed  about  1805,  where  the 
una  corda  is  of  entrancing  effect. 

In  a  general  way  it  may  be  said  that  all  the 
clavier  compositions  which  Beethoven  wrote  before 
he  took  up  his  permanent  abode  in  Vienna  (in 
175 


The  Composers 


1792)  are  equally  adapted  to  the  harpsichord  and 
pianoforte;  they  contain  the  conventional  scale 
passages,  figurations,  etc.,  common  to  the  Haydn- 
Mozart  period.  But  the  fact  that  many  of  his 
pieces  for  pianoforte  solo  up  to  1803  were  pub- 
lished as  for  "pianoforte  or  harpsichord"  {Clavier) 
should  not  lead  the  student  to  think  that  Beethoven 
was  for  so  long  a  time  indifferent  to  the  newer  in- 
strument. Here  again  composer,  no  less  than 
publisher,  may  have  had  an  eye  to  the  commercial 
side  of  the  matter.  So  long  as  the  harpsichord 
continued  to  be  found  in  the  houses  of  the  musical 
amateurs  it  was  only  a  bit  of  worldly  wisdom  to  let 
these  amateurs  know  that  their  instrument  was  not 
excluded  from  the  new  repertory. 

It  is  a  charge  frequently  brought  against  Beeth- 
oven's music  that  it  is  not  claviermdssig,  as  the 
Germans  say — i.e.,  that  it  is  not  always  adapted  to 
the  instrument.  There  is  some  truth  in  this  state- 
ment, no  doubt.  I  have  already  emphasized  the 
fact  that  it  is  as  music  that  his  pianoforte  composi- 
tions are  supreme,  not  as  the  utterance  of  the  instru- 
ment. But  though  he  may  have  grown  compara- 
tively indifferent  to  his  medium  as  he  became  more 
and  more  engrossed  in  the  art  which  to  him  was  an 
evangel,  and  as  he  withdrew  from  public  gaze  as  a 
virtuoso,  he  yet  strove  till  the  end  to  keep  the  piano- 
forte eloquent.  It  is  the  testimony  of  visitors  to  his 
apartments  in  his  later  years  that  his  pianofortes 

176 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


were  in  poor  condition.  In  one  of  the  note-books  in 
which  Mr.  Thayer  kept  the  memoranda  of  his  con- 
versations with  persons  who  had  come  into  direct 
contact  with  Beethoven  I  found  this  record:  "  Once 
Beethoven  told  Stein  that  some  strings  in  his  Broad- 
wood  P.  F.  were  wanting,  and  caught  up  the  boot- 
jack and  struck  the  keys  with  it  to  show."  His 
deafness  affected  his  playing,  and  led  him  to  adopt 
some  idioms  which  were  strange  to  the  formulas, 
just  as  it  led  him  to  ask  impossible  things  of  the 
human  voice.  But  some  of  the  things  which  fright 
the  souls  of  fearful  virtuosi  to-day,  and  keep  some 
compositions  out  of  the  hands  of  all  but  specially 
gifted  amateurs,  were  not  in  the  same  degree  diffi- 
culties, or  even  unclaviermdssig,  when  they  were 
written.  The  octave  glissandos  in  the  finale  of  the 
"Waldstein"  sonata  are  an  instance  in  point.  Beeth- 
oven marked  them  to  be  played  with  thumb  and 
little  finger  of  one  hand,  both  descending  and  as- 
cending. Dr.  von  Biilow  simplified  the  passages  by 
permitting  both  hands  to  play  them.  Restore  the 
light  action  and  shallow  dip  of  the  old  mechanism, 
and  the  music  is  at  once  as  easy  as  it  is  idiomatic. 
In  the  note  reiterated  twenty-eight  times  with 
crescendo  and  diminuendo  in  the  introduction  to 
the  Arioso  of  the  Sonata  Op.  no  Rubinstein  be- 
held a  prescient  demand  upon  the  pianoforte  and 
player  of  the  future  which  he  declared  the  modern 
virtuoso  could  only  meet  by  the  "beggarly  devices" 
177 


The  Composers 


of  pedals  and  a  light,  reiterated  stroke.  Dr.  von 
Billow  set  down  the  analogous  effect  in  the  coda 
of  the  Adagio  of  the  Sonata  io6  as  an  imitation  of 
the  Bebung,  or  Balanceme?it,  practised  by  the  old 
clavichordists,  and  Dr.  Frimmel  thinks  that  here 
Beethoven  was  harking  back  to  his  studies  on  the 
clavichord.  It  is,  of  course,  a  daring  and  imperti- 
nent thing  for  a  mere  critic  to  do,  but  I  nevertheless 
venture  to  say  that  had  either  of  the  two  great 
players  whom  I  have  cited  pondered  but  a  moment 
on  the  structure  of  the  so-called  soft  pedal  on 
Beethoven's  pianofortes  they  would  have  seen  that 
the  reiterated  strokes  upon  the  key  as  indicated 
by  Beethoven's  own  fingering,  were  necessary,  not 
to  prolong  the  tone,  as  Rubinstein  thought,  or  to 
produce  the  effect  of  the  Bebung,  as  von  Biilow 
asserted,  but  to  achieve  an  emotional  and  dynamic 
effect  only  possible  by  means  of  the  strokes  in 
combination  with  movements  of  the  shifting  pedal 
— from  una  corda  up  to  tutti  corde  and  back  again, 
as  see: 

But  to  reproduce  this  effect,  which  is  impossible 


Beethoven — An  Intermezzo 


on  modern  pianofortes  because  of  the  absence  of 
the  middle  movement  {due  corde),  we  must  again 
equip  the  instrument  with  a  shifting  mechanism 
hke  that  in  use  in  Beethoven's  day.  And  why  not  ? 
We  are  rapidly  coming  to  an  appreciation  of  the 
fact  that  all  music  sounds  best  when  played  under 
conditions  like  those  which  existed  when  it  was  com- 
posed. The  present  generation  may  yet  hear  a 
Mozart  or  Beethoven  sonata  for  pianoforte  and 
violin  from  instruments  in  angelic  wedlock  instead 
of  destructive  warfare. 


179 


X 

The  Romantic  School 

THUS  Beethoven  ended  the  old  dispensation  and 
ushered  in  the  new.  He  was  the  last  great 
classicist  and  the  first  great  romanticist.  The 
words  are  out  and  we  are  at  once  confronted  by 
the  need  of  further  definition.  We  cannot  go  on 
without  it,  yet  I  despair  of  inventing  one  which 
shall  be  accepted  as  of  general  validity.  The  best 
that  I  can  do  is  to  set  one  down  which  shall  be 
applicable  to  this  study,  and  urge  some  arguments 
in  its  defence;  let  it  be  discarded  by  all  who  can 
find  a  better. 

From  every  point  of  view  the  term  classic  is  more 
definite  in  its  suggestion  than  romantic,  which  in 
musical  criticism  is  chiefly  used  for  the  purpose  of 
conveying  an  idea  of  antithesis  to  classic.  In  lit- 
erary criticism  this  is  not  always  the  case.  Classi- 
cal poets  and  prose  writers  are  those  of  all  times 
whose  works  have  been  set  down  as  of  such  excel- 
lence that  all  the  world  that  knows  them  has  ac- 
corded them  a  place  apart,  has  put  them  in  a  class, 
out  of  which,  so  far  as  we  can  judge  from  the 
history  of  centuries,  they  will  never  be  taken.     Here 

i8o 


The  Romantic  School 


the  term,  as  Archbishop  Trench  pointed  out,  re- 
tains a  rehc  of  a  significance  derived  from  the 
pohtical  economy  of  ancient  Rome,  in  which  citi- 
zens were  rated  according  to  their  income  as  dassici 
or  as  being  infra  classem} 

When  the  term  romantic  got  into  Hterary  criti- 
cism it  meant  something  different  from,  though  not 
necessarily  antithetic  to,  classic,  and  this  difference 
enters  also  into  the  term  as  used  in  musical  criticism. 
Romantic  writings  in  poetry  and  prose  were  those 
whose  subject-matter  was  drawn  from  the  imagina- 
tive literature  of  the  Middle  Ages — the  fantastical 
stories  of  chivalry  and  adventure  which  first  made 
their  appearance  in  the  Romance  languages.  The 
principal  elements  in  these  tales  were  the  marvel- 
lous and  the  supernatural.  When  these  subjects 
were  revived  by  some  poets  of  Germany  and  France 
in  the  early  part  of  the  nineteenth  century,  they  were 
clothed  in  a  style  of  thought  and  expression  different 
from  that  cultivated  by  the  authors  who  thitherto 
had  been  looked  upon  as  models.  So  not  only 
subject-matter  but  manner  of  expression  also  en- 
tered into  the  conception  of  the  term  romantic  which 
these  writers  affected. 

We  see  romanticism  of  the  first  kind  in  the  sub- 
jects of  the  operas  of  Weber  and  Marschner;  but  this 
element  cannot  be  said  to  enter  significantly  into 
purely  instrumental  music,  least  of  all  into  music 
*  See  the  author's:  "How  to  Listen  to  Music,"  page  65. 
181 


The  Composers 


for  the  pianoforte,  to  which  I  am  trying  to  confine 
myself.     In  a  way  it  is  influential,  it  is  true,  in 
music  which  relies  more  or  less  upon  suggestions 
derived  from  external  sources — "programme  mu- 
sic," as  it  is  called.     It  would  be  incorrect,  however, 
to  classify  all  programme  music  as  romantic.     Fro- 
berger's  attempt  to  describe  the  incidents  of  an 
adventurous  journey,  Buxtehude's  musical  delinea- 
tion  of   the   celestial   spheres,    Kuhnau's   Biblical 
sonatas,  Bach's  "  Capriccio  on  the  Departure  of  a 
Beloved  Brother,"   Dittersdorf's  descriptive  sym- 
phonies, were  all  cast  in  classical  forms;    the  titles 
in  no  wise  affected  the  character  or  value  of  the 
music  as  such.     No  more  did  the  titles  which  the 
virtuoso  composers  of  a  later  date  gave  their  sonatas 
and  fantasias.     They  did  no  more  than  invite  a 
pleasing  play  of  fancy  and  an  accompanying  intel- 
lectual operation — the  association  of  naturally  mu- 
sical ideas.     By  this  I  mean  a  correlation  of  certain 
attributes  and  properties   of   things   with   certain 
musical  idioms  which  have  come  to  have  conven- 
tional significance,  such  as  position  in  space  and 
acuteness  and  gravity  of  tone;  speed,  lightness,  and 
ponderosity  of  movement  and  tempo;   suffering  or 
death  and  the  minor  mode;    flux  and  reflux  and 
alternating  ascent  and  descent  of  musical  figures, 
etc.     Music  of  this  kind  may  be  only  one  degree 
higher  in  the  aesthetic  scale   than   that  which   is 
crudely  imitative  of  natural  sounds,  like  the  whis- 
182 


The  Romantic  School 


tling  of  the  wind,  the  rolling  crash  of  thunder,  the 
roar  of  artillery,  the  rhythmical  clatter  of  horses' 
hoofs,  etc. 

It  is  only  when  these  things  become  stimuli  of 
feeling  and  emotion,  with  their  infinite  phases,  that 
they  become  associate  elements,  with  melody,  har- 
mony, and  rhythm,  in  music.  Now,  we  have  pro- 
gramme music  of  a  higher  order,  the  order  which, 
because  it  demanded  freer  vehicles  of  utterance  than 
were  offered  by  the  classical  forms  (especially  when 
they  had  degenerated  into  unyielding  formulas), 
came  to  be  looked  upon  as  antithetical  to  the  con- 
ception of  classicism,  and  therefore  was  called 
romantic  as  the  newer  literature  had  been. 

The  composers  whose  names  first  spring  into  our  minds 
when  we  think  of  the  Romantic  School  are  men  hke  Mendels- 
sohn and  Schumann,  who  drew  much  of  their  inspiration  from 
the  young  writers  of  their  time  who  were  making  war  on 
stilted  rhetoric  and  conventionalism  of  phrase.  Schumann 
touches  hands  with  the  Romantic  poets  in  their  strivings  in 
two  directions.  His  artistic  conduct,  especially  in  his  early 
years,  is  inexplicable  if  Jean  Paul  be  omitted  from  the  equa- 
tion. His  music  rebels  against  the  formalism  which  had  held 
despotic  sway  over  the  art,  and  also  seeks  to  disclose  the  beauty 
which  lies  buried  in  the  world  of  mystery  in  and  around  us, 
and  gives  expression  to  the  multitude  of  emotions  to  which 
unyielding  formalism  had  refused  adequate  utterance.* 

Now,  I  think,  we  are  ready  for  the  tentative 
definition  of  romanticism;   it  is  the  quality  in  com- 

^  "How  to  Listen  to  Music,"  p.  67. 
183 


The  Composers 


position  which  strives  to  give  expression  to  other 
ideals  than  mere  sensuous  beauty,  and  seeks  them 
irrespective  of  the  restrictions  and  hmitations  of 
form  and  the  conventions  of  law;  the  quality  which 
puts  content,  or  matter,  over  manner.  The  striv- 
ing cannot  be  restricted  to  the  composers  of  any 
particular  time  or  place.  Evidences  of  it  are  to  be 
found  here  and  there  in  the  works  of  the  truly  great 
composers  of  all  times;  but  it  became  dominant  in 
the  creative  life  of  the  men  who  drew  their  inspira- 
tion from  Beethoven.  '''The  chief  of  these  are  to  be 
studied  after  a  brief  excursion  demanded  by  his- 
torical integrity. 

I  have  already  called  attention  to  the  circum- 
stance (not  peculiar  to  music  but  shared  with  it  by 
all  other  creations  of  the  human  mind)  that  there  is 
no  sharp  line  of  demarcation  between  characteristic 
periods  of  development,  but  that  they  overlap  each 
other.  Every  great  artist,  before  he  becomes  the 
forward  man  who  strikes  a  new  path,  first  travels 
along  the  old  and  has  company  on  his  journey.  It 
is  only  after  posterity  recognizes  his  puissance  that 
his  companions  drop  out  of  sight  and  he  appears  in 
his  solitary  grandeur.  It  is  this  that  gives  us  the 
perspective  of  the  great  masters  touching  hands 
with  each  other  in  an  isolated  line,  though  their 
contemporaries  may  have  walked  with  them, 
thought  with  them,  and  worked  with  them  along 
large  stretches  of  their  progressive  journey.     Beeth- 

184 


The  Romantic  School 


oven  looms  a  lonely  figure  before  our  fancy  when 
we  contemplate  him  amid  the  period  which  pro- 
duced him,  and  he  still  stands  alone  as  the  preacher 
of  his  ultimate  evangel;  but  there  were  brave  men 
not  a  few  who  recognized  his  greatness  and  prof- 
ited by  his  example,  though  they  could  not  di- 
vorce themselves  as  completely  from  the  spirit  of 
their  time  as  he  did.  Their  feet,  like  those  of  the 
mortals,  as  the  Hindu  legend  has  it,  were  on  the 
ground,  while  his,  hke  those  of  the  immortals, 
touched  it  only  in  seeming.  The  period  which  be- 
gan with  his  youth  and  endured  throughout  his  life 
and  until  his  spirit  bore  its  first  vigorous  fruit  in 
the  founders  of  the  Romantic  School  was  one  of 
technical  brilliancy.  Its  representatives,  building 
on  the  foundations  laid  by  Cramer  and  Clementi, 
developed  pianoforte  playing  to  a  high  degree  of 
perfection  and  established  pedagogical  principles 
which  have  been  transmitted  without  loss  of  vital- 
ity by  a  direct  line  of  successors  down  to  to-day;  but 
as  composers,  they  created  little  which  has  with- 
stood the  tooth  of  time  except  instructive  material. 
Most  of  them  live  in  history  merely  as  virtuosi  and 
teachers.  These  shall  receive  attention  in  the  final 
subdivision  of  these  studies.  Special  considerations 
call  for  the  mention  of  a  few  here. 

Dr.  Burney,  in  his  "Present  State,"  bears  testi- 
mony to  the  extraordinary  love  for  music  cherished 
by  the  natives  of  Bohemia  and  their  skill  as  prac- 

i8s 


The  Composers 

titioners.  Among  Bohemian  musicians  of  the  pe- 
riod which  overlapped  that  of  Beethoven  there  were 
several  who  deserve  to  be  singled  out  because  of 
their  dignified  position  in  musical  history.  J.  L. 
Dussek  has  been  discussed  in  connection  with  the 
development  of  the  classical  sonata  up  to  Beethoven. 
A  predecessor,  J.  B.  Vanhall  (1739-1813),  was  a 
composer  of  church  music,  symphonies,  and  cham- 
ber music,  but  most  popular  among  the  dilettanti 
for  his  pianoforte  pieces,  his  sonatas  challenging 
special  interest,  no  doubt,  by  the  titles  which  he  gave 
to  some  of  them,  such  as  "Sonate  Militaire," 
"The  Celebration  of  Peace,"  "The  Battle  of  Wurz- 
burg,"  "The  Sea  Fight  at  Trafalgar,"  etc.  Louis 
Kozeluch  (1748-1818)  was  a  music-master  at  the 
Austrian  court  in  Vienna,  and  received  the  ap- 
pointment of  court  composer  after  Mozart's  death. 
He  composed  voluminously  in  the  large  forms,  in- 
strumental and  vocal,  and  wrote  from  forty  to  fifty 
pianoforte  sonatas,  three  concertos  for  four  hands 
and  one  concerto  for  two  pianofortes. 

Though  Johann  Wenzel  Tomaschek  (1774-1850) 
found  as  a  teacher  that  his  devotion  to  the  aesthetic 
principles  of  his  age  was  incompatible  with  the 
erraticism  of  Beethoven,  the  composer,  we  are  yet 
indebted  to  him  for  an  illuminative  account  of  the 
effect  produced  by  Beethoven's  playing  on  impres- 
sionable hearers.  He  was  a  man  of  education  and 
broad  culture,  one  who,  like  Schumann,  was  trained 

186 


The  Romantic  School 


to  the  law,  but  who  abandoned  jurisprudence  for 
music  when  his  pupil,  Count  Bouquoy,  offered  him 
a  salaried  place  in  his  household.  His  composi- 
tions, of  which  twelve  "Eclogues"  and  the  same 
number  of  "Rhapsodies"  were  noteworthy,  and 
caused  one  enthusiastic  critic  to  call  him  the 
"Schiller  of  Music,"  enjoyed  great  popularity 
among  his  countrymen.  Ignaz  Pleyel  (1757-1831) 
was  a  pupil  of  Vanhall  and  Haydn,  with  whom  he 
lived  for  a  space.  When  Haydn  went  to  London 
in  1 791  on  the  invitation  of  Salomon  the  managers 
of  the  Professional  Concerts  engaged  Pleyel,  whom 
they  intended  to  play  off  against  his  old  master. 
The  rivalry  between  the  two  concert  organizations 
was  extremely  bitter,  and  an  inspired  newspaper 
article  which  told  that  negotiations  had  been  begun 
with  Pleyel  said  that  Haydn  was  too  old,  weak, 
and  exhausted  to  produce  new  music,  wherefore  he 
only  repeated  himself  in  his  compositions.  How 
little  the  two  artists  felt  the  rivalry  is  indicated  in 
the  memorandum  which  Haydn  entered  in  his  note- 
book: 

Pleyl  came  to  London  on  the  23d  of  December.  On  the 
24th  I  dined  with  him. 

In  1783  Pleyel  became  musical  director  of  the 
Cathedral  at  Strasburg,  whence  he  went  to  Paris 
and  founded  a  music  publishing  house  and  a 
pianoforte  factory  (1807),  which  still  survives  un- 

187 


The  Composers 


der  his  name.  All  of  his  sonatas  and  other  compo- 
sitions, except  those  intended  for  the  purposes  of 
instruction,  were  modelled  after  those  of  Haydn. 
Yet  he  cut  a  brave  figure  in  the  concert  hfe  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  Ludwig  Berger  (1777-1839), 
who,  among  many  other  things,  wrote  a  "Sonata 
Pathetique"  and  a  ''Marche  pour  les  armees  Angl.- 
Espagn.  dans  les  Pyrenees,"  deserves  to  be  remem- 
bered as  the  teacher  of  Mendelssohn,  Dorn,  and 
Taubert.  A  similar  title  is  that  of  the  Abbe  G.  J. 
Vogler  (i  749-1814),  a  Bavarian  theoretician  and 
organist,  who  taught  Weber  and  Meyerbeer,  and 
showed  some  appreciation  of  a  tendency  into  which 
pianoforte  music  was  later  to  fall  in  a  piece  for 
pianoforte  with  quartet  accompaniment,  entitled: 
"Polymelos,  ou  caractere  de  musique  de  differ. 
Nations."  Louis  Spohr  (i  784-1859),  violinist, 
conductor,  composer  of  operas,  oratorios,  and  sym- 
phonies, is  more  significant  in  the  department  of 
chamber  music  employing  the  pianoforte  than  as  a 
writer  for  that  instrument  alone — a  characteriza- 
tion which  also  fits  George  Onslow  (i 784-1853), 
who,  although  descended  from  a  noble  English 
family,  was  a  native  of  France.  However,  two 
sonatas  for  four  hands  have  received  praise  from 
modern  critics. 

A  successor  of  Mozart,  Hummel,  Clementi,  and 
Beethoven  was  Ignaz  Moscheles  (i 794-1 870),  whom 
Edward  Dannreuther  in  Grove's  "Dictionary  of 


The  Romantic  School 


Music  and  Musicians"  describes  as  "the  foremost 
pianist  after  Hummel  and  before  Chopin."  Mosch- 
eles,  who  has  many  pupils  among  the  older  musi- 
cians of  to-day,  made  the  pianoforte  score  of 
Beethoven's  "Fideho"  under  the  eye  of  the  com- 
poser, taught  Mendelssohn  when  the  latter  was  a 
lad  of  fifteen,  became  an  active  spirit  in  the  affairs 
of  the  London  Philharmonic  Society,  and  was  called 
in  1846  to  the  professorship  of  pianoforte  playing 
at  the  Conservatory  of  Music  in  Leipsic.  He  filled 
the  post  till  his  death.  Moscheles  composed  eight 
pianoforte  concertos,  among  them  a  "Fantastique," 
"Pathetique,"  and  "Pastorale."  He  also  added 
variations  to  the  theme  of  "  The  Harmonious  Black- 
smith" and  wrote  a  "Hommage  a  Handel"  for  two 
pianofortes,  which  he  first  played  with  Cramer  in 
London  and  afterward  with  Mendelssohn  in  Leip- 
sic; but  the  public  of  to-day  has  scarcely  heard  any 
of  his  music  in  the  concert-room  except  the  cadenzas 
which  he  wrote  for  Beethoven's  concertos.  Never- 
theless, his  studies  still  possess  vitahty. 

A  most  efficient  propagandist  of  the  so-called 
Vienna  school  of  pianists  was  Carl  Czerny  (1791- 
1857).  As  a  lad  he  became  Beethoven's  pupil,  and 
later  was  the  transmitter  of  many  traditions  touch- 
ing the  interpretation  of  his  master's  works,  and  the 
teacher  of  such  famous  virtuosi  as  Liszt,  Thalberg, 
and  Dohler.  He  has  left  a  name  of  enduring  bright- 
ness despite  his  subservience  in  some  things  to  popu- 


The  Composers 


lar  taste.  It  nevertheless  speaks  for  the  sohdity  of 
his  character  as  a  lad  that  Beethoven  was  sincerely 
fond  of  him,  volunteered  to  take  him  as  a  pupil  and 
for  a  space  contemplated  making  his  home  with  the 
boy's  parents.  Czerny  was  a  tremendously  pro- 
ductive composer,  his  pubhshed  pieces  at  the  time 
of  his  death  having  reached  the  number  of  almost 
one  thousand.  Most  of  those  which  were  not  de- 
signed for  instruction  were  of  the  simply  entertain- 
ing order,  and  served  that  end  by  their  showy  effec- 
tiveness. He  followed  the  classic  forms  in  his 
sonatas,  but  they,  like  his  variations,  fantasias,  pot- 
pourris, etc.,  were  mere  hollow  glitter.  He  also 
followed  the  fashion  of  the  salon  composers  of  his 
day  in  giving  titles  to  some  of  his  pieces  and,  it  is 
easy  to  see,  with  an  eye  to  the  sales  counter.  Com- 
positions like  "The  Conflagration  of  Mariazell" 
and  "The  Ruins  of  Wiener  Neustadt"  were  aimed 
at  arousing  interest  through  the  civic  pride  of  the 
Viennese.  His  enduring  value  rests  on  his  peda- 
gogical works  (chiefly  on  the  "  Complete  Theoreti- 
cal and  Practical  Pianoforte  School"  and  "The 
School  of  Velocity"),  and  the  principles  which  he 
instilled  into  his  pupils  and  which  have  been  handed 
down  by  them. 

The  honor  of  receiving  pianoforte  lessons  from 
Beethoven  was  shared  by  Czerny  with  a  youth  who, 
like  his  companion  in  later  years,  contributed  much 
interesting  knowledge  about  their  great  master  to 

190 


The  Romantic  School 


the  world.  This  was  Ferdinand  Ries  (i 784-1838), 
the  son  of  Franz  Ries,  a  musician  of  Bonn,  who  had 
been  kind  to  Beethoven's  parents  when  they  were 
suffering  from  poverty.  A  letter  from  his  father 
opened  Beethoven's  door  to  the  young  aspirant  for 
musical  honors  when,  after  considerable  wandering, 
he  reached  Vienna.  Ries  remained  under  the  eye 
of  Beethoven,  who  also  persuaded  Albrechtsberger 
to  give  him  lessons  in  composition  for  three  years. 
He  spent  ten  years  in  the  prime  of  his  life  in  Lon- 
don, where  he  faithfully  promoted  the  interests  of  his 
master  in  every  way  possible.  He  wrote  nine  piano- 
forte concertos,  saying  "Adieu  to  London"  in  one 
and  giving  a  "Greeting  to  the  Rhine"  in  another. 
His  writings,  though  of  a  serious  cast,  are  gone  in- 
to desuetude;  among  them  were  ten  solo  sonatas, 
three  pianoforte  trios,  and  five  pianoforte  quartets. 
Friedrich  Kuhlau  (1786-1832)  was  opera  composer 
and  flautist,  who  wrote  sonatinas  and  sonatas  which 
appealed  to  the  best  taste  of  his  own  time  and  a  long 
period  afterward. 

Two  men  stand  in  the  shadow  of  Beethoven  on 
the  borderland  of  romanticism.  As  a  composer  of 
operas  one  of  these,  Carl  Maria  von  Weber  (1786- 
1826),  sent  his  glance  far  into  the  "  Mondbeglanzte 
Zaubernacht,"  and  is  almost  as  fresh  in  the  hearts 
of  the  German  people  as  ever  he  was.  As  a  com- 
poser of  dramatic  overtures  all  the  musically  cult- 
ured  peoples   of   the  world   admire   him   beyond 

191 


The  Composers 


measure,  but  as  composer  of  pianoforte  music  he 
lives  chiefly  by  virtue  of  his  Sonata  in  A-flat,  his 
Polacca  in  the  same  key,  his  "Concertstiick"  in 
F  minor,  and  his  waltz-rondo,  "The  Invitation  to 
the  Dance" — once  the  battle-horse  of  virtuosi  hke 
Tausig  and  Liszt,  now  the  abused  plaything  of 
boarding-school  misses,  who  appreciate  its  merits 
as  little  as  they  do  those  of  Chopin's  nocturnes.  It 
is  Weber's  masterpiece  in  the  field  of  pianoforte 
music,  and  in  it  I  find  a  most  gracious  manifestation 
of  the  new  spirit — a  manifestation  which  is  much 
clearer  and  more  convincing  in  the  original  form 
of  the  composition  than  in  the  disarrangements  of 
it  which  virtuosi  have  made  to  lend  technical  brill- 
iancy to  their  playing.^  Prelude  and  coda  of  the 
"Invitation,"  with  their  dainty  device  of  tender 
dialogue  and  their  exquisite  characterization  of  the 
young  lovers,  are  of  ineffable  poetic  charm.  Weber 
gave  a  plain  indication  of  the  romantic  conceit  which 
underlies  his  music  in  a  little-known  letter,  and  Dr. 
John  Brown  wrote  a  delightful  rhapsody  upon  it  in  a 
review  of  one  of  Sir  Charles  Halle's  concerts  printed 
in  "The  Scotsman"  and  incorporated  in  his  book 
of  essays,  entitled  "Spare  Hours."  The  "Invita- 
tion" is  not  the  only  one  of  Weber's  pianoforte 

*  As  for  the  orchestral  transcription  by  Weingartner,  obviously 
made  only  because  that  musician  found  that  the  two  waltz  melodies 
could  be  brought  together  in  counterpoint,  it  is  a  piece  of  vandal- 
ism which  I  cannot  discuss  with  patience. 

192 


The  Romantic  School 


compositions  to  which  he  provided  a  verbal  com- 
mentary. By  his  own  confession,  in  his  sonata  in 
E  minor  (No.  4)  he  attempted  to  portray  the  suffer- 
ings of  a  melanchoHac:  his  despondency  sometimes 
lightened  by  hope  in  the  first  movement;  rage  and 
insanity  in  the  second;  the  effects  of  consolation  in 
the  andante;  exhaustion  and  death  in  the  final 
tarantelle.  The  "Concertstiick"  was  Weber's  last 
composition  for  the  pianoforte.  Sir  Julius  Bene- 
dict, in  his  little  biography  of  the  composer,  who 
was  his  teacher,  tells  the  story  of  chivalry  as  he 
heard  it  from  the  composer's  own  lips  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  day  on  which  he  finished  its  composition 
and  also  saw  the  first  performance  of  "Der  Frei- 
schiitz."  Dr.  Bie  is  as  far  from  appreciation  of 
Weber's  pianoforte  music  as  Sir  Julius  is  extrava- 
gant in  its  praise.  I  like  best  the  brief  but  com- 
prehensive estimate  of  Prosniz: 

Through  his  pianoforte  pieces  there  runs  a  popular  and 
natural  vein.  Here,  too,  we  observe  those  melodic  turns  with 
which  his  operas  have  familiarized  us.  In  fact,  Weber's  piano- 
forte pieces  often  remind  us  of  his  operas.  They  are  full  of 
fire  and  bravura,  permeated  with  gracious  and  graceful  ele- 
ments, yet  often  superficial  and  empty  and  almost  trivial.  His 
sonatas,  his  "Concertstiick,"  and  his  popular  "Aufforderung 
zum  Tanz"  represent  Weber,  the  pianoforte  composer. 

John  Field  (i 782-1837),  born  in  Dublin,  was  a 
pupil  of  Clementi,  whom  he  accompanied  on  his 

193 


The  Composers 


concert  tours  as  far  as  St.  Petersburg,  where  he 
stayed  long  enough  to  get  the  sobriquet  "Russian 
Field."  He  was  the  precursor  of  Chopin  in  the 
cultivation  of  the  nocturne.  His  compositions  in 
this  compact  and  simple  form  numbered  eighteen. 
They  are  sadly  faded  now,  but  were  potent  enough 
long  after  Field  passed  away  to  draw  words  of 
admiration  from  Liszt. 

Field  [said  he]  was  the  first  who  introduced  a  genre  which 
traced  its  origin  to  none  of  the  existing  forms,  a  genre  in 
which  sentiment  and  song  were  absolutely  dominant,  free 
from  shackles  and  free  from  the  slack  of  an  imposed  form. 
He  opened  the  way  for  all  achievements  which  followed  under 
the  style  of  songs  without  words,  impromptus,  ballads,  etc., 
and  to  him  may  be  traced  the  source  of  all  those  pieces  de- 
signed to  give  voice  in  tones  to  particular  sensations  and 
feelings. 

If  Field  really  deserves  this  characterization  he 
was  surely  the  first  genuine  romanticist.  Besides 
his  eighteen  nocturnes  he  composed  seven  concertos, 
one  of  them  with  the  flamboyant  title  "L'incendie 
par  I'orage";  at  least  six  solo  sonatas,  a  pianoforte 
quintet,  and  a  number  of  smaller  pieces. 

We  now  come  to  the  group  of  composers  whose 
names  are  by  universal  consent  first  in  the  minds  of 
men  when  romantic  music  is  the  topic  of  discussion. 
Before  their  compositions  are  studied  an  effort 
ought  to  be  made  to  point  out  wherein  the  character- 
istic elements  of  romantic  expression  consist.     Any 

194 


The  Romantic  School 


attempt  to  do  this,  however,  is  likely  to  be  as  incon- 
clusive as  that  to  formulate  a  satisfactory  definition 
of  the  term.  The  attitude  of  man  toward  music  is 
an  individual  one,  and  in  some  of  its  aspects  defies 
explanation;  and  what  is  generally  true  of  the  art 
becomes  specifically  true  of  its  particular  phases. 
Pianoforte  music  is  in  a  singularly  difficult  case 
because  it  must  perforce  forego  helps  enjoyed  by 
other  kinds.  It  cannot  be  aided  by  words  as  vocal 
music  is,  which  draws  one  of  its  elements  from  liter- 
ature; when  words  give  expression  to  ideas  asso- 
ciated with  romanticism  a  fitting  musical  setting  of 
them  may  also  be  said  to  be  romantic  music.  In 
orchestral  music  the  voices  of  the  instruments  and 
the  color  which  they  impart  may  inspire  a  feeling 
of  mystery  and  thoughts  of  the  supernatural  and 
thus  proclaim  the  romantic  character  of  the  music 
so  far  as  mystery  and  supernaturalism  are  elements 
of  romanticism.  This  pianoforte  music  cannot  do; 
it  is  thrown  back  upon  content  and  the  musical  ele- 
ments which  that  content  influences. 

Having  in  mind  the  best  pianoforte  music  to 
which  Beethoven  pointed  the  way,  it  may  be  said 
that  the  following  are  the  principal  elements  intro- 
duced into  music  written  for  the  instrument  by  the 
new  spirit,  it  being  prefaced  that  all  of  them  are 
imposed  upon  music  which  answers  the  primary 
notion  of  classicism  as  an  embodiment  of  excel- 
lence : 

195 


The  Composers 


(a)  Freedom  in  the  treatment  of  structural  forms — i.  e.,  a 
freedom  which  contracts  or  expands  or  otherwise  modifies 
forms  to  adapt  them  to  their  spiritual  contents; 

(b)  Invention  of  new  forms; 

(c)  Extension  of  the  harmonic  scheme,  harmony  being  in 
a  high  degree  a  vehicle  of  the  emotions,  occupying  in  this 
respect  the  place  filled  by  rhythm  in  the  musical  system  of 
the  ancient  Greeks.     This  brings  us  to 

(d)  Freedom  in  modulation — modulation  being  a  factor  in 
the  old  conception  of  form; 

(e)  Increase  in  the  number  and  variety  of  rhythms,  from 
which  element  comes  life  in  the  sense  of  movement  or  action, 
as  illustrated  in  the  peculiarly  propulsive  effect  of  syncopation. 

(f)  Adoption  of  poetical  conceits  as  underlying  and  deter- 
mining factors  of  the  composition,  either  as  a  starting-point 
for  the  creative  imagination  of  the  composer  or  the  recreative 
imagination  of  the  performer  and  ultimately  the  receptive 
mood  of  the  hearer. 

All  these  things  are  summed  up  in  the  axiom  that 
in  romantic  compositions  matter  determines  man- 
ner, content  the  dimensions  and  shape  of  the 
vessel.  They  might  exist  in  a  greater  or  lesser 
degree  in  music  which  is  properly  called  classic,  or 
music  which,  for  want  of  the  quality  of  beauty,  is 
not  entitled  to  either  of  the  epithets  which  we  are 
applying.  Hence  it  is  that  here,  as  in  the  apprecia- 
tion of  music  generally,  personal  equation  enters  so 
largely  and  definitively.  Each  individual  must  for 
himself  recognize  the  existence  of  what  Rubinstein 
called  the  "soul"  which  came  into  the  art  with 
Beethoven,  and  the  propriety  and  effectiveness  of 

196 


The  Romantic  School 


the  habiliments  with  which  in  each  case  it  has  been 
clothed. 

The  names  of  the  High  Priests  in  the  Temple 
of  Music  are  to  its  votaries  sources  of  spiritual  re- 
freshment and  inspiration.  Those  who  bore  them 
seem  ever  near  us.  Though  they  have  passed 
away,  their  lives  are  still  intertwined  with  ours.  We 
think  of  Bach,  and  admiration  surges  up  within  us 
for  the  greatest  representative  of  musical  science 
that  the  world  has  ever  known — a  myriad-minded 
artist  to  whom  its  severest  laws  were  the  most  natu- 
ral vehicles  for  the  expression  of  a  soaring  imagina- 
tion; a  tender,  simple,  devout,  domestic  man,  yet 
the  repository  of  all  the  music  that  had  been  before 
him  and  the  fountain-head  of  all  that  was  to  come. 
We  think  of  Haydn,  and  our  room  is  at  once  sunlit 
and  "  out-doorsy,"  a  world  full  of  cheer  and  happy 
laughter;  of  Mozart,  and  a  lambent  flame  of 
divinity  appears  to  us,  playing  about  one  of  earth's 
most  gifted  children,  inspiring  him  to  utterances 
which  now  search  our  souls  to  their  depths,  and 
anon  fill  us  with  an  uplifting  sense  of  the  delight 
of  living;  of  Beethoven,  and  our  voices  sink  into 
the  key  which  publishes  awe  and  reverence,  for  his 
is  the  Ineffable  Name.  We  think  of  Schubert  and 
our  heart-strings  grow  tense;  something  draws  out 
our  affections  with  a  warm  embrace;  now  we  not 
only  marvel,  respect,  and  admire,  we  also  love.  His 
music  is  the  most  lovable  of  all.  Not  all  of  it;  only 
197 


The  Composers 


the  best,  and  of  the  best  unfortunately  the  smallest 
portion  is  in  the  music  which  he  wrote  for  the 
pianoforte.  Two  great  symphonies  (one  a  torso 
so  perfect  in  its  incompleteness,  like  the  Venus  of 
Milo,  that  we  are  unwilling  to  think  of  it  otherwise 
than  as  it  is),  a  grand  mass,  a  string  quartet  (that 
in  D  minor),  a  quintet  for  pianoforte  and  strings, 
a  fantasia  for  pianoforte  (which  the  present  genera- 
tion of  concert-goers  knows  only  as  a  concerto  with 
orchestra  into  which  it  was  expanded  by  Liszt),  and 
songs  numbering  hundreds — these  are  the  works 
upon  which  the  great  fame  of  Franz  Schubert  rests. 
The  remainder  of  the  legacy  is  touched  with  mor- 
tality. Melody  is  the  life-blood  with  which  these 
works  pulsate,  and  the  source  from  which  it  flows 
was  finite  only  because  his  physical  life  was  bounded 
by  years.  His  soul  was  lyrical.  His  symphony  in 
C  sings  on  and  on  in  an  ecstasy  of  loveliness,  until 
we  feel  its  only  imperfection  in  its  excess.  He  gave 
too  lavishly  always  to  give  wisely,  for  moderation 
must  enter  into  all  things,  even  into  beauty.  He  was 
too  prolific  to  be  critical  or  even  judicious.  Varia- 
tions on  melodies  which  he  had  conceived  for  songs 
make  up  the  slow  movements  of  two  of  the  compo- 
sitions set  down  here  among  his  masterpieces — the 
String  Quartet  in  D  minor  and  the  Pianoforte 
Fantasia  in  C.  The  Adonic  metre  which  flows 
through  the  Impromptu  in  B-fiat  (one  of  the  few 
pianoforte  pieces  still  to  be  heard  in  the  concert- 


The  Romantic  School 


room)  runs  through  the  slow  movement  of  his 
String  Quartet  in  A  major,  in  the  theme  of  the 
variations  of  his  String  Quartet  in  D  minor  (the 
song  "Tod  und  das  Madchen"),  in  one  number 
of  his  between-acts  music  to  "Rosamunde,"  and 
several  of  his  songs,  the  finest  illustration  being 
the  cradle-song  beginning,  "  Wie  sich  die  Auglein." 
(Its  gentle  beat  is  heard  throughout  the  Allegretto 
of  Beethoven's  Symphony  in  A.)  The  song  "Der 
Wanderer"  supplies  the  theme  of  the  variations  in 
the  Fantasia;  "Die  Forelle"  that  of  the  Quintet 
with  double-bass.  On  the  melody  of  "Trockene 
Blumen"  (of  the  "Miillerheder")  he  wrote  varia- 
tions for  pianoforte  and  flute. 

The  list  of  pianoforte  pieces  composed  by  Schu- 
bert (i 797-1828)  comprises  seventy-three  titles, 
the  majority  made  up  of  groups  of  small  pieces, 
scores  of  them  dances  of  no  significance  in  piano- 
forte literature.  There  are  eleven  solo  sonatas, 
and  a  fragment  of  a  sonata  which  L.  Stark  com- 
pleted for  publication;  two  sets  of  impromptus;  a 
set  of  short  pieces  called  "Momens  Musicals" 
which,  with  some  of  the  impromptus,  are  the  shin- 
ing gems  of  the  entire  collection;  a  fantasia  in  C 
(Op.  15),  many  marches  and  divertimenti,  over- 
tures, polonaises,  and  rondos  for  four  hands,  some 
of  them  of  high  importance  in  their  department. 
His  chamber  music,  in  which  the  pianoforte  is 
combined  with  other  instruments,  consists  of  a 
199 


The  Composers 


quintet  (Op.  14),  two  trios  with  violin  and  violon- 
cello, a  "Rondeau  brilliant"  with  violin,  three 
sonatinas  with  violin,  a  fantasia  with  violin,  a 
sonata  with  violin,  an  introduction  and  variations 
for  flute,  and  a  sonata  with  arpeggione,  the  last 
written  for  the  inventor  of  the  instrument,  which 
was  of  the  viol  kind,  with  six  strings  and  a  body 
and  fretted  fingerboard  like  those  of  a  guitar. 

There  is  a  great  wealth  of  melodic  inventiveness 
in  the  sonatas,  but  also  excess  of  injudicious  passage- 
work  in  the  development  portion.  Through  the 
decades  Schubert-lovers  among  the  pianists  have 
tried  to  habilitate  them  in  the  concert-room,  but  in 
vain.  They  fail  to  satisfy  the  lover  of  technique, 
and,  despite  their  occasional  moments  of  poetical 
charm,  they  weary  the  cultured  lover  because  of 
their  remplissage.  Schubert's  nature  was  too  un- 
critical to  win  success  in  the  larger  and  higher 
forms.  This  is  not  said  in  disparagement  of  the 
small  forms  in  which  he  was  at  his  greatest,  but  in 
justice  to  the  masters  in  all  forms.  There  is  noth- 
ing more  foolish  in  modern  criticism  than  the  dis- 
position of  unthinking  admirers  of  composers  like 
Chopin  and  Grieg  to  depreciate  the  large  forms 
because  Chopin  and  Grieg  were  not  so  successful 
in  them  as  they  were  in  smaller  or  small  forms,  to 
which  the  bent  of  their  genius  inclined  them.  As 
if  the  great  cathedrals  were  less  magnificent  and 
beautiful  because  the  Taj  Mehal  is  lovely! 


FRANCOIS   FREDERIC   CHOPIN. 


The  Romantic  School 


We  have  seen  that  Liszt  credited  Field  with  being 
the  first  composer  who  introduced  a  genre  in  piano- 
forte music  "  in  which  sentiment  and  song  were  ab- 
solutely dominant  .  .  .  free  from  the  slack  of  an 
imposed  form."  Except  for  the  want  of  seriousness 
in  content  I  do  not  see  why  Beethoven's  "Baga- 
telles" should  not  have  precedence  in  history  over 
Field's  "Nocturnes."  The  latter,  however,  were 
contemporaneous  in  publication  with  Schubert's 
"Impromptus"  and  "Momens  Musicals,"  which 
are  the  most  perfect  of  that  composer's  pianoforte 
utterances.  "Schubert's  greatest  achievement," 
says  Dr.  Bie,  "was  the  'Momens  Musicals,'  which 
appeared  in  1828,  the  year  of  his  death.  The  first 
of  these  is  a  naturalistic,  free  musical  expatiation; 
the  second,  a  gentle  movement  in  A-fiat  major;  the 
third,  the  well-known  F  minor  dance — in  which  a 
dance  became  a  penetrating  and  sorrow-laden 
tongue;  the  fourth,  the  Bach-like  C-sharp  minor 
Moderato,  with  its  placid  middle  section  in  D-flat 
major;  the  fifth,  a  fantastic  march  with  a  sharply 
cut  rhythm,  and  the  sixth,  perhaps  Schubert's  most 
profound  pianoforte  piece,  that  revery  in  still  chords 
which  only  once  are  more  violently  shaken  in  order 
to  lull  us  to  sleep  with  its  pensive  and  dainty  sor- 
row, its  delicate  connections,  its  singing  imitations, 
its  magic  enharmonics,  and  its  sweet  melodies  ris- 
ing like  flowers  from  the  soft  ground.  The  close  of 
the  trio  in  the  style  of  a  popular  chorale,  with  its 


The  Composers 


harmonization  in  thirds,  is  (hke  many  of  his  har- 
monic passages  in  octaves  or  sixths)  exceedingly 
characteristic  of  the  popular  nature  of  Schubert's 
music." 

One  who  loved  Schubert  ardently,  in  whom  the 
romantic  spirit  burst  into  unparalleled  efflorescence, 
and  who  represents  it  with  more  varied  eloquence 
than  any  of  his  contemporaries  or  all  of  them  com- 
bined, was  Robert  Schumann  (1810-1856).  "What 
he  did  to  develop  the  expressive  power  of  the 
pianoforte  is  all  his  own,"  says  Richard  Aldrich 
(in  "The  Musical  Guide,"  edited  by  Rupert 
Hughes).  "He  wrote  for  the  instrument  in  a  new 
way,  calhng  for  new  and  elaborate  advances  in 
technique — not  the  brilliant  finger  dexterity  of 
Chopin  and  Liszt,  but  a  deeper  underlying  potency 
of  expression  through  interlacing  parts,  skilfully 
'  disposed  harmonies,  the  inner  voices  of  chords,  and 
through  new  demands  as  to  variety  of  tone  quality, 
contrasts  of  color,  and  the  enrichment  of  the  whole 
through  pedal  effects.  It  has  been  called  a  crabbed 
style,  but  it  is  no  less  idiomatic  of  the  piano  than 
the  more  open  and  brilliant  manner  that  was  de- 
veloped at  the  same  period  by  the  virtuoso  school 
of  piano-playing  and  composition."  Schumann's 
1  music  is  admirable  as  that  of  Beethoven  is,  because 
^  of  its  excellence  as  music  irrespective  of  the  vehicle 
chosen  for  its  exposition.  Yet,  like  Beethoven,  he 
put  a  greater  eloquence  into  the  tones  of  the  instru- 


The  Romantic  School 


ment  than  did  the  virtuosi  who  called  forth  the 
critical  wrath  of  his  Davidites,  or  even  Chopin, 
whose  unique  genius  he  so  generously  praised.  He 
was  the  ideal  representative  of  romanticism  in  every 
one  of  its  aspects.  He  turned  the  fantastics  and  the 
whimsicalities  of  E.  T.  A.  Hoffman  and  Jean  Paul 
Friedrich  Richter  into  instrumental  song,  and  wove 
their  parti-colored  threads  into  his  polyphony.  He 
remains,  after  half  a  century,  the  foremost  repre- 
sentative of  idealized  programme  music;  proclaim- 
ing not  things,  but  the  moods  and  essences  of  things, 
applying  title^  which  do  not  weight  the  fancy,  but 
lift  it  into  a  buoyant  atmosphere,  removing  all  fet- 
ters of  soul  and  mind,  pointing  the  way  in  all  direc- 
tions except  those  which  lead  to  the  realm  of  the 
ignoble  and  the  ugly.  The  most  perfectly  emanci- 
pated of  all  the  tone-poets  after  Beethoven,  the  one 
in  whom  intellect  and  the  emotions  were  most 
equably  poised,  and  a  priest  in  the- Temple  of  the 
Beautiful  who  held  his  duty  sacred.  To  her  who 
became  his  wife  Schumann  wrote:  "Everything 
touches  me  that  goes  on  in  the  world — politics, 
literature,  people.  I  think  after  my  own  fashion  of 
everything  that  can  express  itself  through  music  or 
can  escape  by  means  of  it.  This  is  why  many  of 
my  compositions  are  so  hard  to  understand — be- 
cause they  are  bound  up  with  my  remote  associa- 
tions and  often  very  much  so,  because  everything  of 
importance  in  the  time  takes  hold  of  me,  and  I 
203 


The  Composers 


must  express  it  in  musical  form.  And  this,  too,  is 
why  so  few  compositions  satisfy  my  mind — because, 
aside  from  all  defects  in  craftsmanship,  the  ideas 
themselves  are  often  on  a  low  plane  and  their  ex- 
pression is  often  commonplace."  To  such  a  man 
music  could  not  be  mere  "  lascivious  pleasings."  It 
was  a  language  to  be  used  in  the  service  of  the  true, 
the  beautiful,  and  the  good.  Its  utterances  he  be- 
lieved might  be  helped  along  by  verbal  suggestion 
in  the  shape  of  a  title;  but  he  was  far  from  believing 
that  the  title  or  its  literary  suggestion  entered  into 
the  quality  of  the  music  itself.  His  creed  on  the 
subject  of  programme  music  was  as  brief  as  it  was 
clear  and  comprehensive;  a  title  might  help  to  ap- 
preciation by  stimulating  thought  and  the  fancy;  it 
could  not  help  poor  music  and  would  not  mar  good; 
but  music  which  required  it  was  in  a  sorry  case. 

The  catalogues  of  Schumann's  works  show  forty 
pieces  for  pianoforte  solo,  four  for  four  hands,  one 
for  two  pianofortes,  three  for  pianoforte  and  or- 
chestra, and  twelve  for  chamber  music  in  which 
the  instrument  is  consorted  with  others.  All  of  his 
numbered  compositions  from  Op.  i  to  Op.  23  are 
for  the  pianoforte  and  the  majority  of  his  works 
in  this  class  are  what  I  have  called  idealized  pro- 
gramme music,  whether  or  not  the  fact  be  indicated 
by  a  title.  The  "Carnaval,"  which  lives  in  loving 
company  with  Beethoven's  Diabelli  variations,  as 
well  as  Schumann's  "Etudes  symphoniques/'  pre- 

204 


The  Romantic  School 


sents  the  picture  of  a  masquerade  with  the  familiar 
figures  of  Pierrot,  Harlequin,  Pantaloon,  and  Co- 
lumbine, associating  with  real  persons  like  Clara 
Wieck  {C Marina),  Chopin,  Ernestine  von  Fricken 
(Estrella),  and  Paganini  (all  indicated  by  imitations 
of  their  musical  styles),  creatures  of  Schumann's 
poetic  fancy,  Eusebius,  Florestan,  the  Davidites,  and 
the  Philistines,  these  last  being  the  hurdy-gurdy 
virtuosi  of  the  period.  In  a  letter  to  Moscheles, 
written  in  1837,  Schumann  told  the  story  of  the 
composition  in  brief  and  furnished  a  hint  at  his 
purposes.  He  says:  "' The  Carnaval '  was  written 
for  an  occasion,  and  is  for  the  most  part  and  with 
the  exception  of  three  or  four  movements  entirely 
upon  the  notes  A,  S,  C,  H,  which  spell  the  name  of 
a  little  Bohemian  town  where  I  had  a  musical 
friend,  but  which  also,  strange  to  say,  are  the  only 
musical  letters  in  my  name.  The  titles  I  added 
afterward.  Is  not  music  always  sufficient  unto 
itself  and  does  it  not  speak  for  itself?" 

Eusebius  and  Florestan  were  names  invented  by 
Schumann  to  embody  the  two  contrasting  tempera- 
ments in  his  own  nature.  Their  fanciful  holders 
were  members  of  the  society  of  Davidites,  which  ex- 
isted only  in  Schumann's  mind,  but  who  labored  in 
his  compositions  as  well  as  his  criticisms  to  destroy 
the  Philistines  in  art.  The  two  are  the  ostensible 
authors  of  Schumann's  first  sonata  (in  F-sharp 
minor),  in  which  we  recognize  music  that  is  not  only 

205 


The  Composers 


programmatic  but  also  biographic.  Florestan  is 
all  energy,  passion,  and  eager  fancy;  Eusebius  is 
the  personification  of  simplicity,  tenderness,  and 
dreamy  mysticism.  Schumann  had  recognized  the 
habitation  within  himself  of  these  antagonistic  ele- 
ments long  before  he  thought  of  giving  them  exist- 
ence on  a  title-page  or  in  his  journal.  Writing  from 
Milan  to  a  friend  in  1829,  he  said:  "For  several 
weeks,  or,  rather,  always,  I  have  seemed  to  myself 
entirely  poor  or  entirely  rich,  utterly  feeble  and 
utterly  strong,  decrepit,  and  yet  full  of  life."  It  must 
have  been  because  he  recognized  how  completely  he 
had  given  expression  to  this  quahty  of  feeling  in 
his  sonata  that  he  conceived  the  idea  of  putting  it 
forth,  not  as  the  composition  of  Robert  Schumann, 
but  of  "Florestan  and  Eusebius,"  who  had  already 
met  Chiarina,  to  whom  the  sonata  is  dedicated 
under  her  real  name  in  the  "  Carnaval."  We  recog- 
nize the  gentle  Eusebius  in  the  introduction  of  the 
sonata,  with  its  sweetness  and  love;  in  the  second 
melody  of  the  first  movement  proper,  and  the  aria, 
which  is  borne  up  as  on  angels'  wings,  while  the 
Florestan  ranges  through  every  strong  measure  of 
the  Allegro  vivace,  consistently  dealing  his  rhyth- 
mical blows. 

It  was  Schumann's  manner  to  compose  a  piece 
of  music,  or  a  set  of  pieces,  under  the  influence  of 
emotions  aroused  by  his  own  experiences  or  the 
reading  of  his  favorite  authors,  and  when  all  was 

206 


The  Romantic  School 


finished  to  invent  a  title  which  should  be  character- 
istic and  give  a  hint  at  the  poetic  contents  of  the 
music.  It  frequently  happened  that  years  elapsed 
between  the  writing  of  a  work  and  its  publication, 
and  during  this  time  it  continually  occupied  his 
mind  and  became  associated  with  many  notions 
which  had  nothing  to  do  with  it  in  the  beginning. 
The  Fantasia  in  C  (Op.  17)  is  a  case  in  point.  In 
several  letters  written  two  years  after  the  composi- 
tion of  the  work  he  plainly  i-ndicates  that  the  in- 
spiration of  its  first  movement,  at  least,  was  his  love 
for  Clara  Wieck  and  the  misery  which  grew  out  of 
her  father's  opposition  to  their  marriage.  In  one 
letter  he  says  to  Clara:  "The  first  movement  is 
perhaps  the  most  passionate  thing  I  have  written"; 
in  another:  "The  first  movement  is  a  deep  lamen- 
tation over  you";  in  another:  "  You  can  only  under- 
stand the  Fantasia  if  you  shall  think  yourself  back 
in  the  unhappy  summer  of  1836,  when  I  gave  you 
up."  It  may  have  been  this  last  reflection  which 
suggested  the  superscription,  "Ruins,"  which  he 
gave  to  the  first  movement  after  he  had  decided  to 
make  a  gift  of  the  composition  to  the  Beethoven 
monument  fund  at  Bonn.  When  the  work  was 
printed  this  superscription  (together  with  "Tri- 
umphal Arch"  and  "Constellation,"  which  he  had 
in  mind  for  the  other  movements)  was  abandoned 
and  the  simple  title  "Fantasia"  was  supplemented 
by  a  motto  from  Schlegel. 

207 


The  Composers 


A  letter  to  Clara  Wieck,  written  a  few  months 
after  he  had  composed  the  "Nachtstiicke"  (Op. 
23),  furnishes  an  interesting  bit  of  evidence  of 
the  manner  in  which  he  hunted  for  illuminative 
superscriptions.  The  piece  had  not  been  given  to 
the  printer,  and  he  was  anxious  to  indulge  his  fancy 
for  programmatic  titles.  So  he  writes:  "I  have 
quite  arranged  the  'Nachtstiicke' — what  do  you 
think  of  calling  them:  No.  I  'Trauerzug';  No.  II, 
'Kuriose  Gesellschaft';  No.  Ill,  'Nachthches  Ge- 
lage';  No.  IV,  'Rundgesang  mit  Solostimmen'?" 
Here  we  see  a  hint  at  the  contents  of  each  of  the 
first  three  pieces  in  the  set,  but  only  a  fanciful  title 
suggested  by  its  structural  form  for  the  last.  The 
first  title  is  explained  by  the  fact  that  while  engaged 
upon  the  first  nocturne  he  was  oppressed  by  a  pre- 
sentiment. "  While  I  was  composing  I  kept  seeing 
funerals,  coffins,  and  unhappy,  despairing  faces; 
and  when  I  had  finished  and  was  trying  to  think  of 
a  title  the  only  one  that  occurred  to  me  was  '  Leich- 
enfantasie'  ('Funeral  Fantasia').  I  was  so  much 
moved  over  the  composition  that  the  tears  came 
into  my  eyes,  and  yet  I  did  not  know  why,  and 
there  seemed  to  be  no  reason  for  it.  Then  came 
Therese's  letter,  and  everything  was  at  once  ex- 
plained." The  explanation  lay  in  the  fact  that  his 
brother  Edward  was  dying. 

Not  only  his  devotion  to  form  but  his  consum- 
mate mastery  of  it  has  marred  the  excellence  of 

208 


The  Romantic  School 


Felix  Mendelssohn  (1809-1847)  in  the  eyes  of  the 
self-elected  champions  of  progress  since  his  death, 
nearly  two  generations  ago.  Perfection  in  a  god 
is  tolerable,  but  in  a  mere  human  artist  contem- 
plation of  it  becomes  a  vexation  and  weariness  of 
the  flesh.  In  his  lifetime  Mendelssohn  was  idolized; 
after  he  was  dead  he  was  overwhelmed  with  critical 
contumely.  Now,  despite  the  irreverence  of  the 
age,  the  divine  light  is  again  recognized  in  his 
countenance.  Reformers  and  revolutionists  are 
prone  to  be  image-breakers.  It  is  more  difficult  for 
artists  who  are  impressionists,  because  they  lack 
the  skill  to  be  anything  else,  to  admire  impeccable 
perfection  in  execution,  than  for  those  whose  im- 
pressionism is  a  fulfilment  of  all  their  desires. 

Mendelssohn  brought  no  sword  into  the  world; 
he  was  a  reformer  of  taste,  but  not  a  revolutionist. 
There  is  not  a  word  in  the  technical  vocabulary  of 
pianoforte  music  which  traces  its  origin  to  him. 
To  the  romantic  content  of  music  he  added  little 
more  than  a  form  and  an  idiom;  and  because  the 
form  was  degraded  to  a  formula  by  himself  and  his 
imitators  and  the  idiom  overworked,  their  value 
soon  came  to  be  underestimated.  "It  is  a  pity," 
said  Rubinstein  to  his  pupils  at  the  Imperial  Con- 
servatory in  St.  Petersburg,  "that  I  am  to  play 
Mendelssohn  to  you  after  Weber.  If  I  had  played 
him  after  Herz  you  would  better  understand  why 
we  must  think  of  him  so  highly."  The  point  was 
209 


The  Composers 


well  taken.  It  is  also  something  of  a  pity  that  in 
this  discussion  I  have  placed  Schumann  before  him; 
but  it  was  done  so  that  I  might  the  quicker  reach 
the  heart  of  this  phase  of  our  study.  In  reading  a 
book  one  may,  if  he  wishes,  turn  back  and  reread  an 
earlier  page,  while  at  a  recital  one  can  revert  to 
what  has  been  done  only  by  appeal  to  memory  and 
the  imagination. 

Mendelssohn's  life  was  contemporary  with  Schu- 
mann's, though  its  artistic  activities  began  as  many 
years  earlier  than  his  as  they  ended.  He,  too,  made 
war  on  the  Philistines,  though  his  was  the  suaviter 
in  modo  rather  than  the  fortiter  in  re  of  his  friend 
and  admirer.  Herz  and  Kalkbrenner,  Dreyschock 
and  Liszt,  yes,  even  Liszt,  were  filling  the  salons  of 
Paris  with  the  jingles  of  operatic  fantasias  while 
Mendelssohn  in  Germany  and  England  was  turn- 
ing the  minds  of  amateurs  to  a  purer  taste  by  com- 
positions which  combined  perfection  of  form  with 
marvellous  clarity,  purity,  and  unity  of  style,  mas- 
terly counterpoint,  graceful  melody,  euphony,  and 
brilliancy.  It  is  easy  to  smile  at  the  mushy  sen- 
timentalism  of  the  majority  of  the  "  Songs  Without 
Words"  now,  but  think  of  them  back  in  their 
historical  environment  and  you  will  not  withhold 
from  them  honor  due.  How  hackneyed  are  the 
"Spinning  Song"  and  the  "Hunting,"  "Spring," 
and  "Gondolier"  songs;  but  give  your  imagina- 
tion a  little  flight:    Mendelssohn  sits  playing  them 

2IO 


The  Romantic  School 


in  Leipsic,  Berlin,  or  London,  while  in  a  whited 
sepulchre  in  Paris  Herz's  pianoforte  scintillates 
with  scales,  arpeggios,  trills,  and  pretty  broderies 
above,  below,  and  around  melodic  echoes  of  Rossini 
and  Bellini  and  Donizetti.  How  do  the  "Songs 
Without  Words"  sound  now?  Pianistic  babes  and 
sucklings  have  mastered  their  difficulties  long  ago, 
but  virtuosi  who  think  seriously  of  their  art  still 
play  them  in  public,  and  we  must  not  think  it  is 
only  to  ingratiate  themselves  with  boarding-school 
misses. 

So  much  for  Mendelssohn's  most  marked  con- 
tribution to  pianoforte  literature  in  the  depart- 
ment of  form;  as  for  the  fairy  idiom  of  his  scherzos, 
though  it,  too,  has  been  greatly  abused,  by  him  as 
well  as  his  successors,  it  was  an  inspiration  straight 
from  the  world  of  sunshine  and  happiness  in  which 
Mendelssohn  lived  and  moved  and  had  his  being; 
and  it  is  as  substantial  and  beautiful  a  contribu- 
tion to  the  language  of  music  as  the  plangent  tone 
of  Chopin's  nocturnes  even  to-day.  It  was  not  in 
vain  that  Mendelssohn's  mother  named  him  Felix, 
and  we  should  not  repine  that  there  was  no  tragedy 
in  his  hfe  which  he  found  it  necessary  to  proclaim. 
It  is  a  singular  fact  that  this  idiom  fell  into  the  mind 
of  the  glorious  boy  when  he  wrote  his  overture  to 
"A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream"  in  the  same  year 
in  which  Weber,  sinking  pain-racked  into  his  grave, 
found  appropriate  and  similar  delineation  for  his 


The  Composers 


fairy-folk  in  "Oberon."  It  proved  to  be  service- 
able in  many  instrumental  forms,  and  though  it  has 
been  much  abused,  its  charm  remains  perennial. 

Mendelssohn's  pieces  for  pianoforte  solo  num- 
ber a  round  hundred,  nearly  half  of  them  "Songs 
Without  Words,"  a  too  convenient  and  appealing 
appellation.  There  are  three  sonatas,  but  they  do 
not  mark  high  water;  that  is  done  by  the  "Varia- 
tions serieuses,"  which  even  Dr.  Bie,  who  is  sar- 
castic and  contemptuous  because  of  the  compos- 
er's too  persistent  perfection  of  utterance,  says  are 
"without  a  suspicion  of  triviality  and  filled  with  in- 
tellectual lines  and  harmonies — a  splendid  struct- 
ure," though  he  thinks  that  "they  rest  on  all  sides 
on  Schumann."  To  him  the  "Songs  Without 
Words"  are  "folksongs  in  evening  dress."  In  illus- 
tration of  what  he  considered  the  best  in  Men- 
delssohn as  regards  artistic  content  Rubinstein  se- 
lected the  third  fugue,  the  first,  third,  seventh, 
seventeenth,  twenty-second,  twenty-third,  and 
twenty-seventh  "Songs  Without  Words,"  the  "Ve- 
netian Gondolier's  Song,"  and  the  "Variations 
serieuses";  for  his  technical  significance  the  "Ca- 
priccio"  in  F-sharp  minor,  "Rondo  capriccioso," 
Scherzo  in  E  minor.  Fantasia  in  F  minor,  fitude 
in  F,  and  the  "Scherzo  capriccio,"  which  last  he 
held  to  be  the  most  valuable  and  individually  char- 
acteristic of  all  of  Mendelssohn's  pianoforte  pieces. 
For  four  hands  he  wrote  an   "Allegro  brillante" 


The  Romantic  School 


and  a  "Duo  concertante"  (variations  on  the  march 
in  "Preciosa") — the  latter  with  Moscheles.  In  the 
department  of  chamber  music  Mendelssohn  wrote 
two  sonatas  for  painoforte  and  violoncello,  and 
one  sonata  for  pianoforte  and  violin;  "Variations 
concertantes "  for  pianoforte  and  violoncello;  two 
trios,  and  a  sextet  for  pianoforte  and  strings;  a 
"Song  Without  Words"  for  pianoforte  and  vio- 
loncello, and  a  piece  called  "The  Evening  Bell" 
for  pianoforte  and  harp,  the  bell  in  question  being 
that  of  Atwood's  gate.  He  joined  the  pianoforte 
with  the  orchestra  in  two  concertos,  a  "Capriccio 
brillante,"  a  rondo,  and  a  "Serenade  and  Allegro 
giojoso."  All  of  these  were  concert-room  hobbies 
in  the  heyday  of  the  composer's  popularity,  the 
vogue  of  the  Concerto  in  G  minor  being  so  great 
as  to  provoke  Berlioz's  amusing  skit  in  which  he 
tells  how  the  pianoforte  at  the  Conservatoire  at 
an  examination  of  pupils  began  at  last  to  play  the 
concerto  of  itself  at  the  mere  approach  of  a  pupil, 
and  the  hammers  continued  jumping  about  even 
after  the  instrument  had  been  demolished  and 
thrown  out  of  the  window. 

If  I  were  to  consult  only  my  own  mental  comfort 
I  should  omit  all  except  a  mere  mention  of  him  here 
and  classify  Frederic  Francois  Chopin  (1810-1849) 
with  the  representatives  of  national  schools  of  com- 
position in  the  next  chapter;  but  he  has  so  long 
been  held  up  as  an  arch  romanticist  that  such  a  step 
213 


The  Composers 


might  prove  disturbing.  Chopin  stands  alone  in 
musical  history.  Albert  Lavignac  in  his  "Music 
and  Musicians"  says:  "Although  France  was  the 
country  of  his  adoption,  and,  indeed,  his  family 
were  of  French  origin,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  class  him 
by  reason  of  his  affinities  in  the  romantic  school  of 
Germany."  James  Huneker  says  he  remained  aloof 
from  the  romanticists,  "though  in  a  sympathetic 
attitude,"  and  was  "a  classic  without  knowing 
it,"  but  immediately  attributes  to  him  one  of  the 
qualities  which  I  have  been  pleased  to  think  are 
determinative  of  romanticism:  "With  Chopin  form 
was  conditioned  by  the  idea.  He  took  up  the 
dancing  patterns  of  Poland  because  they  suited  his 
inner  life."  If  these  principles  are  dominant  in  his 
music  then  Chopin  is  a  romanticist,  though  a  na- 
tional romanticist  because  of  his  use  of  folksong 
idioms,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter.  Then,  too,  we 
should  find  him  well  consorted  in  this  chapter  with 
Mendelssohn  because  of  their  common  love  for 
architectural  symmetry,  their  attitude  toward  pro- 
gramme music,  and  their  devotion  to  beauty,  a 
quality  which  they  impressed  upon  even  the  most 
native  and  characteristic  of  their  utterances.  Ad- 
herence to  architectural  structure  was  forced  upon 
him  by  his  adoption  of  dance  forms  for  so  many 
of  his  compositions;  but  he  made  free  with  form 
in  the  conception  which  is  foremost  in  the  mind  of 
the  pedagogue — the  relative  distribution  of  keys  in 

214 


The  Romantic  School 


a  composition;  and,  therefore,  if  he  was  a  classi- 
cist in  one  sense,  he  was  a  romantic-classicist,  as 
Bach  was  at  times,  and  Beethoven  always. 

Thus  do  our  definitions  rise  up  and  seemingly  try 
to  plague  us.  But  we  shall  not  permit  them  to  do 
so.  They  are,  at  least,  like  some  of  the  so-called 
scientific  laws,  "good  working  hypotheses." 

We  are  not  yet  at  the  end  of  the  Chopin  paradox. 
If  it  is  difficult  to  deduce  his  artistic  creed  from  his 
works  it  is  impossible  to  do  so  from  what  we  know 
of  his  musical  predilections.  He  admired  Mozart, 
but  dishked  Schubert;  thought  Weber's  pianoforte 
music  too  operatic;  seems  to  have  believed  that 
Beethoven's  greatness  was  largely  summed  up  in 
the  C-sharp  minor  Sonata,  and  that  Schumann's 
music  (the  "Carnaval,"  at  any  rate)  was  scarcely 
music  at  all.  This  apparently  bears  out  Mr.  Hune- 
ker's  contention  that  he  was  unconsciously  a  classi- 
cist. But  Chopin  is  a  sentimentalist,  despite  the  fact 
that  some  virtuosi  have  tried  to  make  him  appear 
otherwise  by  strenuous  playing  of  his  works;  and 
how  can  one  who  is  devoted  to  sentimental  ut- 
terance be  at  heart  a  classicist?  Dull  a  classicist 
might  be,  commonplace,  monotonous,  and  unin- 
spired; but  a  morbid  publisher  of  poppy  and 
mandragora,  never.  And  Chopin  is  morbid,  de- 
spite the  fact  that  Schumann  declared  him  to  be 
"  the  boldest,  the  proudest  soul  of  the  time."  Men- 
delssohn, with  a  calmer  view  than  Schumann, 
215 


The  Composers 


thought  his  playing  "a  little  infected  by  the  Parisian 
mania  for  despondency  and  straining  for  emotional 
vehemence." 

I  do  not  know  that  Mr,  John  F.  Runciman,  who 
says  many  things  only  to  startle  his  readers,  ought 
to  count  when  he  classes  Chopin  among  the  "in- 
heritors of  rickets  and  exhausted  physical  frames"; 
but  he  has  many  among  the  composer's  admirers 
who  believe  with  him  that  his  music  is  "sick,  un- 
healthy music."  Dr.  Niecks,  his  greatest  biog- 
rapher, confesses  that  there  is  seductive  poison  in 
the  nocturnes,  and  prescribes  Bach  and  Beethoven 
as  antidotes.  Heinrich  Pudor  is  a  greater  ex- 
tremist than  Runciman,  one  who  affects  at  least  to 
despise  all  modern  tendencies.  "No  less  deca- 
dent," he  writes,  the  reference  being  to  Wagner  and 
Liszt,  "  is  Chopin,  whose  figure  comes  before  one  as 
flesh  without  bones — this  morbid,  womanish,  shp- 
slop,  powerless,  sickly,  bleached,  sweet-caramel 
Pole."  Dr.  Bie  is  more  discriminating.  An  en- 
thusiastic admirer  of  Chopin's  music,  he  yet  utters 
a  protest  against  putting  it  in  the  hands  of  the 
young. 

We  know  that  the  extreme  of  culture  is  closely  allied  to 
decay,  for  perfect  ripeness  is  but  the  foreboding  of  corruption. 
Children,  of  course,  do  not  know  this,  and  Chopin  himself 
would  have  been  much  too  noble  ever  to  lay  bare  his  mental 
sickness  to  the  world,  and  his  greatness  lies  precisely  in  this: 
that  he  preserves  the  mean  between  immaturity  and  decay. 

216 


The  Romantic  School 


His  greatness  is  his  aristocracy.  He  stands  among  musicians 
in  his  faultless  vesture  a  noble  from  head  to  foot.  The  sub- 
limest  emotions  toward  whose  refinement  whole  generations 
had  tended,  the  last  things  in  our  soul  whose  foreboding  is 
interwoven  with  the  mystery  of  judgment  day,  have  in  his 
music  found  their  form. 

This  is  rather  extravagant,  but  Chopin  enthusi- 
asts are  prone  to  hyperbole,  and  as  we  have  per- 
mitted Runciman  and  Pudor  to  have  their  say  we 
can  only  in  justice  give  the  other  side  a  hearing. 
Thus  Huneker:  ^ 

Chopin  neither  preaches  nor  paints,  yet  his  art  is  decora- 
tive and  dramatic — though  in  the  climate  of  the  ideal.  He 
touches  earth  and  its  emotional  issues  in  Poland  only;  other- 
wise his  music  is  a  pure  aesthetic  delight,  an  artistic  enchant- 
ment, freighted  with  no  ethical  or  theatric  messages.  It  is 
poetry  made  audible,  the  "soul  written  in  sound" 

Rubinstein: 

The  piano  bard,  the  piano  rhapsodist,  the  piano  mind,  the 
piano  soul  is  Chopin.  .Tragic,  romantic,  lyric,  heroic,  dra- 
matic, fantastic,  soulful,  sweet,  dreamy,  brilliant,  grand,  sim- 
ple— all  possible  expressions  are  found  in  his  compositions 
and  all  are  sung  by  him  upon  his  instrument. 


And  Tappert; 


If  ever  a  composer  deserved  the  title  tone-poet,  it  was 
Chopin.     He  set  chords  to  vibrating  which  had  never  been 

'  "Chopin,  the  Man  and  His  Music,"  p.  ii6. 
217 


The  Composers 


touched  before,  and  have  not  been  touched  since.  He  asked 
little  about  rule  and  formula,  and  what  he  learned  is  of  minor 
importance  in  his  works.  He  dipped  his  transporting  melodies 
and  harmonic  combinations  out  of  an  original  and  brimming 
fountain  of  invention.  Unlettered  in  the  sense  of  any  par- 
ticular pedagogic  tendency,  he  handles  his  natural  gifts  with 
the  utmost  freedom.  In  the  matter  of  the  pianoforte,  its 
technic,  and  all  that  relates  to  the  two,  Chopin  must  be  set 
down  as  the  greatest  and  most  skilful  genius.  Even  the  tini- 
est leaf  of  his  graceful  arabesques  can  be  traced  from  a  poetic 
impulse.  He  never  aimed  merely  at  vain  bravura.  .  .  .  The 
once  homeless  stranger  has  everywhere  found  a  home.  In  life 
the  suffering  exile  won  a  crown  of  thorns;  a  grateful  posterity 
crowned  him  with  laurel.  He  passed  into  the  land  of  eternal 
harmony.     He  came,  charmed,  and — died! 

Like  many  of  the  virtuosi-composers  who  pre- 
ceded him,  Chopin  wrote  almost  exclusively  for  the 
pianoforte.  Among  his  compositions  are  seven- 
teen settings  of  Polish  poems  for  voice  and  piano- 
forte, and  these,  together  with  five  works  for  piano- 
forte and  orchestra,  four  chamber  pieces  in  which 
the  instrument  is  used  in  combination  with  strings, 
and  a  rondo  for  four  hands,  make  up  the  sum  of 
his  compositions  which  are  not  pianoforte  solos. 
The  entire  list  of  published  works,  including  a  polo- 
naise of  doubtful  authenticity,  numbers  close  on  to 
two  hundred.  For  pianoforte  and  orchestra  there 
are  two  concertos,  a  "Fantasia  on  Polish  airs,"  a 
"Krakowiak,"  and  a  set  of  variations;  for  piano- 
forte and  violoncello  a  sonata,  an  "  Introduction  and 
Polonaise,"  and  a  "Grand  Duo  Concertanto"  on 

218 


The  Romantic  School 


a  Theme  from  "Robert  le  Diable."  His  solos  em- 
brace 56  Mazurkas,  27  Etudes,  25  Preludes,  19  Noc- 
turnes, 15  Waltzes,  13  Polonaises,  4  Rondos,  4 
Ballades,  4  Scherzos,  3  Sonatas,  3  Impromptus, 
3  Ecossaises,3  sets  of  Variations,  2  Fantasias,  i  Tar- 
antelle,  i  Berceuse,  i  Barcarolle,  i  "Concert 
Allegro,"  I  "Marche  funebre,"  and  i  Bolero. 

Though  some  of  the  most  friendly  analysts  of 
Chopin's  music  have  fallen  foul  of  his  two  con- 
certos and  denied  them  a  place  among  his  greatest 
and  most  characteristic  works,  both  have  main- 
tained a  place  in  the  active  lists  of  concert  pianists 
for  two  generations.  If  Chopin's  genius  were  gen- 
erally recognized  as  the  loftiest  that  his  century 
saw  in  music,  this  fact  would  not  be  calculated  to 
cause  so  much  wonder.  Then  his  concertos  would 
themselves  create  the  standard  by  which  they 
would  have  to  be  judged,  and  one  might  think  them 
inferior  to  all  his  other  compositions  and  still  hold 
them  to  be  without  a  rival  so  far  as  the  concertos 
of  others  are  concerned.  But  that  is  not  the  case, 
and  the  admiration  and  love  with  which  they  are 
regarded,  though  confessedly  faulty,  is  a  beautiful 
tribute  to  their  winsomeness  and  subtle  charm. 
They  date  back  to  the  early  manhood  of  the  com- 
poser, having  been  composed  in  the  reverse  order  of 
their  publication  when  he  was  still  in  Warsaw  and 
before  he  had  won  fame  outside  of  his  native  land. 
Yet  they  are  full  of  the  unmistakable  individuahty 
219 


The  Composers 


of  his  genius,  not  only  in  the  exquisite  gracefulness 
of  the  figuration  and  melodic  ornament,  but  also  in 
the  character  of  the  melodies  themselves.  This  is 
particularly  true  of  the  slow  movement  of  the  second 
concerto  (in  F  minor),  which  is  the  imperishable 
monument  which  the  composer  reared  to  an  early 
love,  that  for  Constantina  Gladkowska,  a  singer.  A 
great  drawback  to  the  popularity  of  the  concertos 
has  been  found  in  the  ineffectiveness  of  their  orches- 
tral parts;  wherefore  these  have  been  rewritten — 
whether  successfully  or  not  critical  opinion  has  not 
yet  determined.  It  was  Mr.  Edward  Dannreuth- 
er's  opinion  that  the  concertos  were  most  effective 
when  played  on  two  pianofortes. 

The  Etudes  have  a  purpose  indicated  by  their 
title,  which  is  to  develop  the  technique  of  piano- 
forte playing  along  the  line  of  the  composer's  dis- 
coveries— his  method  of  playing  extended  arpeggios, 
contrasted  rhythms,  progressions  in  thirds,  octaves, 
etc. — but  some  of  them  breathe  poetry  and  even 
passion.  The  title  "Preludes"  can  scarcely  be 
considered  as  more  than  a  makeshift,  adopted  in 
default  of  a  better  one.  It  indicates  nothing  of  the 
character  of  the  pieces  which  have  aptly  been  com- 
pared to  sketches  in  an  artist's  portfolio — notes, 
memoranda,  impressions,  studies  in  color,  light  and 
shade,  contrasts  and  contours.  Schumann  said  of 
them:  "They  are  sketches,  beginnings  of  studies, 
or,  if  you  will,  ruins,  single  eagle-wings,  all  strangely 

220 


The  Romantic  School 


mixed  together."  Some  of  the  most  strikingly  beau- 
tiful of  the  composer's  inspirations  are  gathered 
under  this  head  in  Op.  28.  The  prototypes  of  the 
Nocturnes,  dreamy,  contemplative,  even  elegiac 
pieces,  v^e  have  met  in  the  principal  compositions 
of  John  Field.  The  term  "Ballade,"  however,  is 
an  invention  of  Chopin's,  who  applied  it  to  four 
compositions  written  between  1836  and  1843. 
These  works  have  in  common  that  they  are  written 
in  triple  time  and  belong  to  the  composer's  finest 
inspirations.  Schumann  said  on  the  authority  of 
Chopin  himself  that  they  were  prompted  by  Mickie- 
wicz's  poems,  and  that  a  poet  might  easily  write 
words  to  them.  They  are  moody  and  passionate, 
and  may  be  said  to  have  correspondence  with 
Schumann's  "Noveletten"  and  Liszt's  "Sonnets." 
Byron  could  find  no  good  in  a  waltz,  which  was  to 
him  only  "a  damned  seesaw,  up  and  down  sort  of 
tune."  Evidently  he  knew  only  the  poorest  waltzes 
of  the  ball-room,  or  was,  like  Lamb,  organically  un- 
musical. Chopin's  waltzes  are  salon  music  of  an 
aristocratic  kind.  Ehlert  called  them  "dances  of 
the  soul,  not  of  the  body,"  and  Schumann,  in  his 
guise  of  Floreslan,  declared  that  he  could  not  play 
the  one  in  A-flat  for  a  dance  unless  at  least  half  of 
the  women  dancers  were  countesses. 

The  term  "scherzo"  which  Chopin  gave  to  four 
of  his  compositions  has  struck  some  writers  as  being 
just  as  arbitrary  as  prelude  and  nocturne,  and  even 


The  Composers 


more  anomalous.  "How  is  gravity  to  clothe  itself 
if  jest  goes  about  in  dark  veils?"  asked  Schumann, 
commenting  on  the  first  scherzo.  We  have  since 
learned,  as  Schumann  might  have  learned  from 
Beethoven,  that  the  emotional  content  of  a  sym- 
phonic scherzo  need  not  always  be  jocose;  that  the 
term,  indeed,  may  sometimes  stand  only  for  the 
form  of  a  composition.  There  is  more  madness 
than  merriment,  more  tragedy  than  comedy,  in  the 
forced  and  desperate  gayety  of  many  Slavic  scherzos, 
and  the  struggle  between  the  human  and  the  divine 
which  is  reflected  in  Beethoven's  C  minor  symphony 
is  carried  on  as  grimly  in  the  third  movement  as  in 
the  first,  yet,  though  Beethoven  scrupled  to  call  it 
such,  that  third  movement  is  a  scherzo. 

The  few  attempts  which  Chopin  made  to  express 
himself  in  the  larger  forms  all  appear  to  be  more  or 
less  desultory.  They  are  offshoots  from  the  gen- 
eral tendency  of  his  genius.  It  is  plain  that  he  did 
not  move  without  constraint  in  the  sonata  form,  and 
that  he  could  not  always  find  in  it  characteristic  and 
unembarrassed  expression.  For  this  reason  there 
has  been  considerable  discussion  over  the  merits  and 
demerits  of  the  sonatas  in  B  minor  and  B-flat  minor; 
the  one  in  C  minor  being  universally  admitted  to  be 
inferior.  Schumann  and  Liszt,  both  admirers  of 
Chopin,  felt  constrained  to  pronounce  against  the 
works.  But  whatever  may  be  said  in  criticism  of 
them  on  the  score  of  their  deficiencies  in  form  and 


The  Romantic  School 


lack  of  unity,  the  opulence  and  beauty  of  their 
musical  ideas  have  argued  irresistibly  in  their  be- 
half, and  they  are  played  as  much  to-day  as  ever 
they  were,  if  not  more. 

This  must  suffice  for  Chopin  here;  some  remarks 
on  his  national  dances,  mazurka  and  polonaise, 
may  be  reserved  for  the  next  chapter.  Between  him 
and  the  last  of  the  really  great  composers  there  do 
not  stand  many  to  detain  us.  On  one  only  would  I 
like  to  dwell  if  space  permitted.  This  is  Stephen 
Heller  (i8i 5-1888),  a  musician  of  rare  elegance  and 
distinction,  as  truly  a  Tondichter  as  contradistin- 
guished from  a  Tonsetzer  as  was  Chopin.  He,  too, 
though  not  a  Frenchman,  made  his  home  in  Paris, 
much  to  the  regret  of  Schumann,  who  had  hailed 
his  coming  as  he  had  hailed  Chopin's,  and  who 
feared  the  influence  of  French  art  and  life  on  the 
young  Bohemian.  But  Heller,  though  he  lived  fifty 
years  among  the  French,  was  not  of  the  French. 
Devoted  to  the  smaller  lyric  forms,  he  never  became 
a  salon  composer  in  the  popular  sense.  He  wished 
to  extend  his  literary  and  historical  studies,  and  to 
that  end  found  Paris  propitious.  He  had  started 
out  as  a  virtuoso,  but  nervousness  prevented  him 
from  pursuing  the  career.  He  taught,  wrote  essays 
for  the  "Gazette  musicale,"  and  composed.  He 
wrote  studies,  eclogues,  fantasies,  caprices,  bal- 
lades, and  dances,  besides  a  set  of  delightful  effu- 
sions which  are  called  "Flower,  Fruit,  and  Thorn 
223 


The  Composers 


Pieces"  (after  Jean  Paul's  book)  in  Germany,  but 
for  which  no  better  title  could  be  found  in  French 
than  "Restless  Nights"  {Nuits  blanches).  Fickle 
taste  has  dallied  with  many  an  idol  since  Heller's 
first  pieces  came  to  charm,  but  he  has  remained  the 
admiration  of  musicians.  Chopin's  waltzes  seem 
to  be  for  that  society  of  which  Heller  said  that  the 
higher  you  went  in  it  the  denser  was  the  ignorance 
which  you  found.  Heller's  waltzes  are  reflective, 
introspective,  ''physiognomical,"  as  Louis  Kohler 
wrote  in  1879.  They  may  not  be  waltzes  to  be 
danced,  but  they  are  at  least  dances  to  be  felt  and 
brooded  over.  His  studies  are  less  for  the  fingers 
than  for  the  heart  and  mind.  They  inculcate  music 
in  its  ethereal  essence  rather  than  its  mechanical 
manifestations.  Like  the  "Blumen,  Frucht,  und 
Dornenstiicke,"  they  are  proclamations  of  moods — 
moods  dreamy,  fantastic,  aerial,  riant,  defiant,  inert, 
leaden,  perverse,  like  those  which  possessed  the 
creatures  of  Jean  Paul  Friedrich  Richter's  fecund 
fancy. 

Adolf  Henselt  (1814-1885)  wrote  in  a  brilliant 
style  and  with  a  nobility  suggestive  of  Chopin.  He 
was  poetical  even  in  his  Etudes,  one  of  which  ("  If 
I  were  a  Bird")  won  a  place  in  the  concert-room 
which  it  still  holds,  as  does  his  dashing  and  grandi- 
ose concerto  in  F  minor.  Henselt  was  a  pupil  of 
Hummel  for  eight  months  as  a  lad,  and  spent  the 
last  fifty  years  of  his  life  in  St.  Petersburg. 

224 


The  Romantic  School 


William  Sterndale  Bennett  (1816-1875)  was  an 
ingratiating  echo  of  Mendelssohn  in  his  native  Eng- 
land. He  wrote  among  other  things  for  the  piano- 
forte four  concertos,  a  fantasia  with  orchestra,  a 
trio,  and  a  sonata  in  F  minor.  Schumann  dedi- 
cated his  "  Etudes  symphoniques  "  to  him.  Bennett 
was  in  Leipsic  when  the  work  was  composed,  and 
Schumann,  in  a  letter  to  his  sister,  wrote  of  him  that 
he  was  "a  glorious  artist  and  a  lovely  poet  soul." 
To  make  the  tribute  which  he  wished  to  pay  as 
beautiful  and  fragrant  as  possible,  and  at  the  same 
time  a  compliment  to  the  English  people,  it  has 
been  said  that  Schumann  abandoned  the  theme 
almost  completely  in  the  final  variation  (the  march) 
and  built  up  a  new  melody  on  the  basis  of  a  phrase 
from  the  romance  which  Ivanhoe  sings  in  praise  of 
Richard  Cceur  de  Lion  in  Marschner's  opera  "Tem- 
plar and  Jewess."  It  is  a  pretty  conceit  that  by 
quoting  the  first  phrase  of  the  romance  in  which 
England  is  enjoined  to  rejoice  in  the  possession  of 
so  chivalric  a  king  as  Lionheart  an  allusion  to  Ben- 
nett was  intended.  I  do  not  wish  wholly  to  destroy 
it,  but  it  is  nevertheless  true  that  Schumann's  finale 
might  easily  have  come  into  being  had  Marschner's 
melody  never  been  written;  and,  indeed,  by  a  device 
which  is  frequently  employed  in  the  course  of  the 
preceding  variations — viz.,  that  of  inversion.  It  is 
no  strain  to  fancy  that  Schumann  conceived  the  be- 
ginning of  his  march  melody  only  as  an  inversion 
225 


The  Composers 


and  transposition  into  the  major  mode  of  the  begin- 
ning of  the  theme  of  the  entire  composition. 

Woldemar  Bargiel  (1828-1897)  wrote  one  fantasia 
which  he  thought  worthy  of  a  dedication  to  his  step- 
sister, Clara  Schumann  (he  was  the  son  of  the 
divorced  wife  of  Friedrich  Wieck),  and  another 
which  he  inscribed  to  Johannes  Brahms.  Joachirpp 
Raff  (1822-1882)  is  much  better  known  as  a  sym- 
phonist  than  as  a  writer  for  the  pianoforte,  yet  he 
wrote  a  concerto  and  a  suite  which  were  very  popu- 
lar in  their  day.  The  programmatic  tendency  illus- 
trated in  his  orchestral  compositions  is  also  char- 
acteristic of  some  of  his  smaller  pianoforte  pieces. 

Schumann's  successors  in  all  departments  cul- 
tivated by  him  called  themselves  "new  roman- 
ticists," and  the  movement  which  they  represented 
received  a  tribute  in  the  shape  of  an  "  Hommage  au 
Neoromantisme  "  composed  by  Raff.  Among  them, 
though  not  admitted  by  the  radicals,  is  Johannes 
Brahms  (1833-1897),  who  provided  the  generation 
which  is  now  passing  away  with  the  best  music 
which  came  into  its  life  in  all  fields  except  the 
operatic.  Schumann  greeted  him  at  the  beginning 
of  his  career  in  an  essay  ("Neue  Bahnen")  which 
might  well  have  turned  the  head  of  any  composer, 
even  an  older;  but  it  left  Brahms  unspoiled.  To 
Schumann  the  sonatas  which  the  new-comer  played 
for  him  sounded  hke  "veiled  symphonies,"  and  the 
suggestion  of  an  orchestral  idiom  marks  his  piano- 

226 


The  Romantic  School 


forte  pieces,  as  it  does  those  of  Beethoven  and 
Schumann  himself.  Yet,  Hke  those  giants,  Brahms 
was  profoundly  interested  in  the  technique  of  the 
instrument.  Like  them,  too,  he  disclosed  the  dig- 
nity and  profundity  of  his  art  in  his  variations.  He 
gave  his  first  public  concert  when  a  boy  of  fourteen, 
and  though  the  affair  had  been  arranged  by  his 
teacher  to  exploit  his  skill  as  a  pianist  the  pro- 
gramme contained  an  original  set  of  variations  on  a 
German  folksong.  Ever  after,  in  all  departments 
to  which  Brahms  contributed,  the  old  love  for  the 
form  asserted  itself.  Prominent  among  his  works 
are  the  variations  on  themes  by  Handel,  Haydn, 
Paganini,  and  Schumann. 

Brahms's  genius  was  essentially  Teutonic;  he 
was,  indeed,  what  Wagner  imagined  his  Tann- 
hauser,  "German  from  top  to  toe."  His  devotion 
to  German  ideals  was  exemplified  in  his  rugged 
honesty,  his  sturdy  yet  tender  affection,  his  con- 
tempt for  affectation,  his  simphcity,  and  his  candor, 
which  frequently  overstepped  the  line  of  demarca- 
tion between  courtesy  and  rudeness.  Like  his 
revered  models,  he  represented  the  element  of 
both  classicism  and  romanticism  in  their  best  es- 
tates; and  like  them,  too,  he  raised  his  structures 
polyphonically.  He  was  a  master  of  form,  but  he 
moulded  the  form  to  suit  the  contents,  and  he  left 
the  vessel  shapely  and  transparent.  He  wrote 
much   for    the    pianoforte,   but    never   carelessly. 

2-27 


The  Composers 


Carelessness,  indeed,  was  wholly  foreign  to  his 
nature.  From  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  his 
career  he  exemplified  the  Horatian  maxim  and  kept 
many  of  his  works  away  from  the  public,  not  for 
nine  years  only,  but  forever.  He  wrote  two  con- 
certos, three  sonatas,  five  sets  of  variations,  one 
scherzo,  one  ballade,  and  a  large  number  of  short 
pieces  called  variously  rhapsodies,  intermezzos,  and 
caprices,  and  published  in  groups.  His  last  pub- 
lications were  in  this  form.  His  chamber  music 
consists  of  three  trios,  three  quartets,  and  one  quin- 
tet for  pianoforte  and  strings,  three  sonatas  with 
violin,  two  sonatas  with  violoncello,  a  trio  with  vio- 
lin and  horn,  a  trio  with  clarinet  and  violoncello, 
and  a  set  of  waltzes  ("Liebeslieder")  for  two  piano- 
fortes and  four  solo  voices. 


228 


XI 

National  Schools 

THOUGH  in  a  general  way  I  have  pursued  a 
chronological  course  in  these  studies,  I  have 
not  tied  myself  down  to  dates  because,  as  I  have 
intimated,  dates  do  not  mark  clearly  the  progressive 
steps  in  art,  science,  or  learning.  Neither  have  I 
tried  to  mention  all  the  pianoforte  composers  whose 
names  have  been  written  brightly  on  the  roll  of 
fame  in  the  course  of  the  last  century  and  a  quarter. 
These  studies  do  not  make  up  either  a  historical 
hand-book  or  a  guide  to  pianoforte  literature.  If 
this  had  been  their  design  I  should  now  be  scarcely 
at  the  beginning  of  my  task  instead  of  near  the  close. 
Never  before  was  so  much  pianoforte  music  written 
as  now;  but,  it  must  be  added,  never  before  was  so 
little  of  the  product  of  the  day  utilized  by  virtuosi. 
If,  then,  the  apprehension  touching  the  critical  at- 
titude of  these  writings  at  the  end  which  I  expressed 
in  an  earlier  chapter  should  now  be  verified,  I  shall 
at  least  be  able  to  shield  myself  behind  the  men 
whose  business  it  is  to  stand  between  the  creative 
artist  and  the  public.  If  they  are  unwilling  to  play 
the  pianoforte  music  composed  by  their  contem- 
229 


The  Composers 


poraries  (they  are  always  willing  to  play  their  own), 
why  should  I  be  bound  to  discuss  it  ?  I  have  been 
frank  in  all  things  heretofore;  let  me  continue  to 
be  frank  to  the  end  of  the  book,  and  confess  that  I 
feel  very  little  sympathetic  interest  in  the  composi- 
tions with  which  pianoforte  literature  is  being  ex- 
tended in  this  latter  day.  Yet  this  is  not  because 
of  an  excessive  conservatism  of  the  kind  which  is 
willing  to  find  beauty  only  in  that  which  belongs  to 
the  days  of  old.  Music  is  too  young  an  art  and  its 
progress  in  some  departments  within  the  last  genera- 
tion or  two  has  been  too  obvious  to  give  color  of 
truth  to  the  assertion  that  its  capabilities  have  been 
exhausted.  Nor  can  it  be  said  that  the  public  is 
indifferent  to  the  creations  of  the  present.  On  the 
contrary,  every  novelty  from  a  famous  pen  is  scru- 
tinized with  almost  feverish  eagerness  by  concert 
players  in  the  hope  that  it  may  prove  good  enough 
to  be  included  in  their  repertories.  Yet  how  small 
is  the  proportion  of  the  music  given  out  by  the 
writers  of  to-day  which  takes  hold  upon  the  popular 
heart  or  finds  an  abiding  place  in  the  popular 
affections!  A  study  of  the  programmes  of  a  sea- 
son's concerts  in  New  York  which  I  made  some 
years  ago  (there  has  been  no  change  in  conditions 
since,  except  that  Brahms  has  died)  disclosed  that 
out  of  256  miscellaneous  pianoforte  compositions 
played  (concertos  and  sonatas  being  excluded)  more 
than  two-thirds  were  the  works  of  masters  of  the 

230 


National  Schools 


past;  and  the  remaining  one-third  included  the 
productions  of  all  living  and  local  composers  who 
in  various  vi^ays,  such  as  giving  concerts  of  their  own 
works,  got  their  names  in  the  list.  The  concertos 
played  included  practically  every  work  of  this  class 
which  has  maintained  itself  in  the  concert-room, 
thus  representing  the  survival  of  the  fittest  of  a  cen- 
tury's productions.  Here  is,  however,  a  fact  more 
significant  still:  sixteen  of  Beethoven's  sonatas 
were  played — a  number  several  times  greater  than 
all  the  sonatas  of  other  composers  combined.  Ob- 
viously, I  am  not  alone  in  a  want  of  sympathy  with 
latter-day  pianoforte  compositions;  it  is  shared  by 
the  pianists  themselves. 

Is  there  a  lesson  to  be  learned  from  this?  I 
think  so;  but  before  I  attempt  to  look  for  it  let  me 
draw  a  few  other  factors  into  the  problem.  Music, 
especially  pianoforte  music,  was  never  so  univer- 
sally cultivated  as  now.  Musical  pedagogy  never 
before  reached  the  eminence  which  it  occupies  now. 
On  its  mechanical  side  it  has  profited  by  the  patient 
plodding  of  centuries;  on  its  intellectual  it  has  bene- 
fited by  the  researches  of  wise  men  who  have  lifted 
some  of  the  elements  of  interpretation  almost  to  a 
science.  Printed  music  was  never  so  cheap  as  now. 
The  pianoforte  of  to-day  has  many  times  the  power 
and  richness  of  tone  of  the  instrument  of  fifty  years 
ago.  Science  has  lent  its  aid  to  make  it  an  instru- 
ment capable  of  asserting  itself  against  an  orchestra 
231 


The  Composers 


of  a  hundred,  and  at  the  same  time  of  giving  voice 
to  the  tremulous  and  all  but  inaudible  sigh.  Why 
should  not  this  be  the  Golden  Age  of  pianoforte 
music  ? 

First — Because  it  is  not  an  artistic  age  in  any 
sense.  It  is  the  age  of  science,  politics,  and  com- 
merce, the  last  activity  determining  the  course  and 
activities  of  the  two  others.  It  is  an  age  shod  with 
iron.  The  flowers  of  art  do  not  and  cannot  spring 
up  in  its  path.  Indescribably  brilliant,  but  hard 
and  cruel,  are  the  sparks  which  it  strikes  out  in  its 
thunderous  progress.  That  is  one  reason.  There 
is  another,  which  is  inherent  in  the  development  of 
music  itself.  Who  it  was  that  first  made  the  ob- 
servation I  do  not  know,  but  it  is  an  axiom  that 
a  period  of  highest  technical  achievement  in  art  is 
contemporary  with  a  period  of  decay  in  production; 
that  is  to  say,  the  period  of  the  mere  virtuoso  (and 
there  are  now  virtuosi  in  the  domain  of  composi- 
tion) is  not  that  of  the  creative  artist.  It  is  not 
difficult  to  find  out  some  of  the  reasons  why  this 
should  be  so;  a  little  hunting  will  discover  them. 
But  here  is  a  hint  as  to  the  direction  which  the 
search  may  take:  In  old  Greece  when  Pindar  was 
alive  and  writing  his  odes  in  praise  of  the  winners 
at  the  Pythian  and  Olympian  games  there  was  a 
flute-player,  named  Midas,  who  was  one  of  those 
thus  gloriously  celebrated.  But  what  feat  of  Mi- 
das's  was  it  the  record  of  which  has  come  down  to 

232 


National  Schools 


us  with  the  tribute  of  Hellenic  applause  ?  At  a  cer- 
tain concert,  while  playing,  he  lost  the  mouthpiece 
of  his  instrument,  yet  managed  to  finish  the  piece 
with  great  bravura  without  it.  In  Midas  we  have 
the  prototype  of  the  modern  virtuoso,  and  in  the 
Greeks  who  applauded  him  the  prototype  of  the 
modern  public,  which  in  all  the  domains  of  art  is 
more  inclined  to  look  at  the  manner  than  the  mat- 
ter, which  comes  into  the  concert-room  to  be  as- 
tounded and  bewildered  by  feats  of  skill  rather  than 
to  enjoy  music. 

Interest  is  added  to  the  compositions  of  a  very 
considerable  number  of  composers  of  the  last  half 
century  by  reason  of  the  adoption  by  them  of  the 
idioms  of  the  folkmusic  of  the  peoples  to  which 
they  belonged.  These  idioms  are  evidences  of  ro- 
manticism in  two  aspects — they  have  provided  new 
contents  as  well  as  new  forms  to  artistic  music. 
They  have  also  made  possible  the  classification  of 
composers  and  compositions  into  schools  on  lines 
which  were  unknown  in  the  earlier  history  of  the  art. 
In  the  classical  periods  of  operatic  and  church 
music  the  boundaries  of  so-called  "schools"  were 
composed  of  dates  and  the  names  of  masters  and 
the  places  of  their  principal  activity.  Composers 
and  their  pupils  who  congregated  in  Rome  or 
Florence  or  Milan  were  described  as  representa- 
tives of  the  Roman,  Florentine,  or  Milanese  schools, 
notwithstanding  that  there  was  nothing  in  their 
233 


The  Composers 


music  which  belonged  specifically  to  those  musical 
capitals.  For  a  long  time,  except  as  language  and 
its  influence  upon  melodic  declamation  modified  the 
manifestations,  there  was  no  essential  difference  be- 
tween Italian,  French,  and  German  opera.  When 
national  or  historical  subjects  other  than  those 
drawn  from  antiquity  came  to  be  used  it  got  to  be 
the  custom  to  speak  of  the  products  of  the  opera- 
houses  in  different  political  capitals  as  if  they  had 
patriotic  significance;  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  the 
musical  integument  was  long  the  same  whether  the 
hero  of  an  opera  was  called  Alexander,  Cyrus, 
Julius  Caesar,  Charlemagne,  or  Gustavus  Adolphus 
— whether  the  plot  turned  on  a  classic  myth  or  a 
popular  romance.  The  talk  about  national  schools 
began  when  national  subjects  were  chosen  for 
operas,  or  titles  drawn  from  the  history,  geography, 
literature,  or  folklore  of  a  country  were  given  to  in- 
strumental music  of  a  descriptive  or  programmatic 
character.  But  the  musical  settings  did  not  be- 
come "racy  of  the  soil,"  as  the  phrase  goes,  until 
the  influence  of  the  German  romantic  school  had 
made  itself  felt  among  the  composers  of  other 
countries.  Inasmuch,  then,  as  composers  for  a 
while  all  drew  their  inspiration  from  Germany,  their 
music  had  to  wait  until  it  occurred  to  them  to  go 
to  the  people's  songs  and  dances  for  characteristic 
elements.  There  were  sporadic  cases  of  the  use  of 
national  idioms  in  an  earlier  period,  but  they  were 

234 


National  Schools 


not  influential.  Thus  Beethoven  used  Russian 
melodies  in  two  of  the  quartets  which  he  composed 
for  Count  Rasoumowsky;  Schubert's  Op.  54  is  a 
"  Divertissement  a  la  hongroise"  for  pianoforte,  four 
hands;  Haydn  adapted  Croatian  melodies  for  his 
works,  changing  them  to  suit  his  purposes  without 
giving  them  characteristic  expression;  Mozart,  Beeth- 
oven, Weber,  and  others  utilized  local  color  bor- 
rowed from  Oriental  music — orchestral  pieces  which 
made  large  use  of  instruments  of  percussion,  like 
cymbals,  triangle,  and  large  drum,  being  called 
"Janizary  "  or  "  Turkish  "  music.  Mozart's  "  Turk- 
ish March"  in  the  Sonata  in  A  major,  Beeth- 
oven's incidental  music  for  "The  Ruins  of 
Athens,"  the  tenor  solo  variation  in  the  finale  of 
the  symphony  in  D  minor,  Weber's  "Preciosa"  and 
the  overture  to  "Turandot"  (built  on  a  Chinese 
tune)  are  familiar  examples. 

In  the  sense  which  is  to  prevail  in  this  chapter 
the  first  distinctive  school  in  the  field  (all  classicists 
belonging  to  the  school  universal)  was  the  Scan- 
dinavian, the  chief  representatives  of  which  are  the 
Danes:  J.  P.  E.  Hartmann  (1805-1900)  and  Niels 
W.  Gade  (1817-1890);  the  Norwegians:  Halfdan 
Kjerulf  (181 5-1868),  Johann  Svendsen  (1840-  ), 
Richard  Nordraak  (1842-1866),  Edvard  Grieg 
(1843-1907),  and  Christian  Sinding  (1856-  ) ;  the 
Swedes:  Ludwig  Norman  (1831-1885),  J.  A.  Soder- 
mann  (1832-1870),  Andreas  Hallen  (1846-  ), 
235 


The  Composers 


Emil  Sjogren  (1853-  ),  and  Wilhelm  Sten- 
hammar  (187 1-  ).  The  composers  of  Finland 
are  generally  counted  among  the  Scandinavians, 
because  Finland  was  cojnpletely  under  the  in- 
fluence of  Sweden  for  over  four  hundred  years, 
but  few  of  the  elements  of  the  ancient  folkmusic  of 
the  Finns  (who  are  of  Ugrian  stock  and  more 
closely  connected  in  racial  relationship  with  the 
Hungarians  than  with  the  people  of  the  Northland) 
have  got  into  artistic  music,  and  in  this  study  no 
Finnish  composer  calls  for  mention,  except,  pos- 
sibly, Jean  Sibehus  (1865-  ),  whose  most  ex- 
pressive instrument  is  the  orchestra,  though  he  has 
written  transcriptions  of  Finnish  melodies  for  the 
pianoforte. 

In  a  general  way  all  Scandinavian  composers  may 
be  described  as  romanticists,  with  a  leaning  toward 
conservatism  in  the  matter  of  form.  Danish  folk- 
melodies  were  introduced  into  a  Danish  opera 
("Elverhoe")  by  Kuhlau,  a  German,  in  1828,  but 
little  attention  was  paid  to  their  idiom  until  after 
A.  P.  Berggreen  (1801-1880),  who  was  one  of 
Gade's  teachers,  made  his  admirable  collection  of 
folksongs.  The  "real  founder  of  the  national 
Scandinavian  school  in  the  nineteenth  century,  the 
creator  of  Danish  romanticism,"  according  to  Dr. 
Walter  Niemann,*  was  J.  P.  E.  Hartmann,  a  com- 

*"Die  Musik  Scandinaviens,"  Leipsic,  Breitkopf  und  Hartel, 
1908. 

236 


National  Schools 


poser  of  operas,  dramatic  overtures,  and  a  ballet, 
"The  Valkyria,"  besides  a  sonata,  novelettes, 
studies,  and  caprices  for  the  pianoforte.  His  suc- 
cessor in  the  leadership  was  Gade,  who  was  also  his 
son-in-law,  the  friend  of  Schumann  and  Mendels- 
sohn, associate  conductor  with  the  latter  in  Leipsic 
and  after  his  death  long  director  of  the  Gewandhaus 
concerts.  He  wrote  copiously  symphonies,  over- 
tures (the  "Nachklange  aus  Ossian"  is  still  a  po- 
tent Bardic  voice),  and  cantatas,  but  he  is  most 
specificaUy  national  in  his  pianoforte  pieces,  among 
which  are  "Norse  Tone  Pictures"  and  "Folk 
Dances."  He  dedicated  a  sonata  in  E  minor  to 
Liszt.  Of  recent  years  Ludvig  Schytte  (1848-  ) 
has  composed  some  pieces  with  a  pretty  glitter. 
Halfdan  Kjerulf,  who  opens  the  Norwegian  list,  was 
a  gentle  and  tender  lyrist  in  his  pianoforte  pieces 
as  well  as  his  songs.  Edmund  Neupert  (1842- 
1888),  to  whom  Grieg  dedicated  his  pianoforte  con- 
certo, was  an  efficient  propagandist  for  the  music  of 
his  country,  especially  in  America,  where  he  spent  a 
considerable  portion  of  his  life.  Little  importance 
attaches  to  the  pianoforte  music  of  Svendsen;  and 
Nordraak,  though  he  composed  Norway's  national 
hymn,  acquires  his  chief  significance  from  the  influ- 
ence which  he  exerted  upon  Grieg  at  a  critical  time 
in  his  life.  It  was  a  protest  against  Gade  which 
put  Grieg  at  the  head  of  the  Scandinavian  school 
and  gave  it  the  individuality  and  potency  which  it 

237 


The  Composers 


now  enjoys.  In  his  early  years  Grieg  had  taken 
Gade  for  his  model,  but  shortly  after  embarking  on 
his  artistic  career  he  fell  under  the  influence  of  Nor- 
draak,  a  young  musician  of  great  talent  and  a 
Norwegian  patriot  of  uncompromising  aggressive- 
ness. To  Nordraak  the  nationalism  of  Gade 
seemed  pallid  and  ineffective.  It  was  too  full  of 
Mendelssohnian  suavity.  It  is  still  possible  for  us 
to  enjoy  the  gentle  and  poetic  melancholy  of  Gade's 
B-flat  symphony,  which  erstwhile  awakened  so 
much  enthusiasm  in  Schumann;  yet  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  it  sounds  archaic  even  by  the  side  of  Men- 
delssohn's "Scotch."  But  put  aside  modern  ideals 
and  there  is  a  beauty  in  the  gloom  of  the  fjords  and 
the  shadows  of  the  forests  which  pervade  it  and 
heighten  the  effect  of  the  sunny  delights  which  fell 
into  its  scherzo  from  the  breezy  mountain  pastures; 
yet  we  can  well  understand  how  when  Grieg,  a  Nor- 
wegian to  the  backbone  (though  of  Scotch  extrac- 
tion on  his  father's  side),  acquired  the  needed  degree 
of  self-reliance,  he  resolved  to  be  more  truthful  and 
less  sophisticated  than  Gade  had  been.  And  so 
there  crept  out  of  his  music  some  of  its  gentleness 
and  mellifluous  grace,  and  there  stalked  into  it  a 
strength,  a  grim  vigor,  and  a  sort  of  uncouthness 
which  are  native  to  the  North  and  its  people. 
Grieg's  short  mood  pieces,  far  and  away  the  best 
of  his  compositions,  are  in  the  key  set  by  the  North. 
By  turns  they  depict  the  sadness  and  the  boisterous 

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humor  natural  to  a  people  oppressed  by  the  cli- 
matic rigors  of  the  Scandinavian  peninsula. 

"Grieg  is  greatest  in  small  things,"  says  Dr. 
Niemenn,  whose  admiration  is  evidenced  not  only 
by  the  dedication  to  him  of  his  book  on  Scandina- 
vian music  but  also  in  the  assertion  that  the  Con- 
certo in  A  minor  is  the  most  beautiful  work  of  its 
kind  since  Schumann.  "His  ten  books  of  Lyric 
Pieces,"  the  same  critic  adds,  "are  the  musical 
Testament  of  the  Norway  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
the  musical  reflex  of  the  land  of  the  vikings,  with  its 
silent,  light  night,  gilded  by  the  midnight  sun,  its 
tempest-tossed  coasts,  its  snow-covered  highlands, 
lonely  valleys,  lakes,  rivers,  and  innumerous  cas- 
cades." The  composer  has  suffered  from  the  too 
extravagant  praise  of  his  friends,  who  have  too 
persistently  ignored  the  greater  poetical  tenderness 
of  some  of  his  Norse  compatriots  and  the  virility 
and  broader  vision  of  a  composer  like  Christian 
Sinding.  Grieg  himself  knew  his  hmitations  better 
than  they  and  was  frank  in  his  confession  of  them. 
"Artists  like  Bach  and  Beethoven,"  he  wrote, 
"erected  churches  and  temples  on  the  heights.  I 
wanted,  as  Ibsen  expresses  it  in  one  of  his  last 
dramas,  to  build  dwellings  for  men  in  which  they 
might  feel  at  home  and  happy.  In  other  words,  I 
have  recorded  the  folkmusic  of  my  land.  In 
style  and  form  I  have  remained  a  German  ro- 
manticist  of   the   Schumann   school;    but   at   the 

239 


The  Composers 


same  time  I  have  dipped  from  the  rich  treasures  of 
native  folksong  and  sought  to  create  a  national  art 
out  of  this  hitherto  unexploited  emanation  of  the 
folksoul  of  Norway."  Ole  Olesen  (1850-  ),  who 
wrote  the  funeral  march  for  Grieg,  has  written 
also  a  notable  Suite  for  pianoforte  and  orchestra; 
and  Agathe  Backer-Grondahl  (1842-1899),  even  if 
she  had  not  excited  interest  as  a  virtuoso  and  be- 
cause she  was  a  woman,  would  merit  attention 
because  of  her  "Romantische  Stiicke,"  dainty  min- 
iatures quite  worthy  of  a  place  beside  Grieg's  instru- 
mental lyrics. 

Besides  German  influences,  French  and  Italian 
have  been  at  work  in  Sweden  ever  since  music 
entered  into  its  culture.  The  opera  at  Stockholm 
is  still  essentially  an  Italian  institution.  Neverthe- 
less, K.  Stenborg  (i 752-1813)  introduced  Swedish 
melodies  into  his  operas,  and  the  spirit  of  national 
music  has  been  promoted  by  Norman,  Sodermann, 
Hallen,  Sjogren,  and  Stenhammar.  Sjogren's  po- 
etic fancy  is  gentle  and  refined  and  less  robust  than 
that  exhibited  by  Stenhammar  in  his  Concerto  in 
B-flat. 

Nine-tenths  of  the  glory  with  which  Polish  music 
is  surrounded  shines  from  the  name  of  Chopin; 
yet,  though  he  has  been  held  up  persistently  as  a 
paragon  among  national  composers,  there  is  a  point 
of  view  from  which  the  musical  expression  of  his 
patriotism  might  be  questioned.     The  voice  of  the 

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Polish  people  is  predominantly  heroic,  while  Cho- 
pin's, though  not  without  an  infusion  of  healthy 
vigor  and  vivacity,  is  yet  predominantly  languid  and 
melancholy.  This  trait  in  his  music  seems  to  me 
to  be  much  more  personal  than  national.  It  is  not 
fair  to  the  folkmusic  of  Poland,  the  expression  of 
the  people's  heart,  to  make  it  responsible  for  the 
weak  emotionalism  which  tinctures  so  many  of  Cho- 
pin's works,  or  for  that  feeling  for  which  he  could 
find  no  definition  outside  of  the  Polish  word  zdl^ 
which,  Liszt  says,  "means  sadness,  pain,  sorrow, 
grief,  trouble,  repentance,  etc."  There  is  melan- 
choly, indeed,  in  Polish  folkmusic,  and  it  would  be 
impossible  to  avoid  the  effect  of  it  while  making 
such  frequent  use  of  the  Oriental  scale,  with  its 
augmented  intervals,  as  the  Polish  folk-musicians 
did;  but  the  spirit  of  Polish  song  speaks  more 
truthfully  in  its  characteristic  rhythms  than  in  its 
aberrations  from  the  diatonic  scale  of  Occidental 
music.  Mr.  Ignaz  Jan  Paderewski  (1859-  )  is 
a  truer  musical  patriot  than  Chopin,  at  least  in  one 
of  the  several  contributions  which  he  has  made  to 
national  pianoforte  music  by  his  "Fantasie  Polo- 
naise" for  pianoforte  and  orchestra.  In  Chopin's 
Mazurkas  (of  which  he  composed  over  half  a  hun- 
dred) we  are  compelled  to  hear  a  Parisian  idealiza- 
tion of  the  characteristic  Polish  dance  modulated  to 
the  key  of.  the  French  salons.  Mr.  Paderewski  is 
more  democratic.     In  the  second  and  last  of  the 

241 


The  Composers 


sections  of  his  fantasia  the  people  dance  not  in 
courtly  but  in  peasant  fashion;  you  hear  the  clatter 
of  heavy  soles  and  hobnails,  as  in  the  scherzo  of  the 
"Pastoral  Symphony."  A  truer  national  voice  is 
heard  in  Chopin's  polonaises,  where  the  form  adapts 
itself  better  to  proud  and  patriotic  utterance.  The 
polonaise  was  the  stately  dance  of  the  Polish  nobil- 
ity full  of  gravity  and  courtliness,  of  "state  and 
ancientry,"  more  like  a  march  or  procession  than  a 
dance,  resembling  in  this  what  the  pavan  must  have 
been  in  its  prime.  The  music  now  has  an  imposing 
and  majestic  rhythm  in  triple  time,  with  a  tendency 
to  emphasis  on  the  second  beat  of  the  measure  and 
an  occasional  division  of  the  first  beat  into  two  notes, 
with  the  stress  of  syncopation  on  the  second,  like 
the  "Scotch  snap,"  or  the  Hungarian  alia  zoppa. 
Mr.  Paderewski  has  shown  both  learning  and 
fine  aptitude  for  the  large  and  erudite  forms  in  a 
sonata  and  his  last  set  of  variations,  and  his  con- 
certo is  Polish  to  a  degree, 

A  couple  of  concertos,  like  his  symphony  "  Jeanne 
d'Arc"  and  his  opera  "  Boabdil,"  speak  of  a  longing 
for  lofty  flights  on  the  part  of  Moritz  Moszkowski 
(1854-  ),  but  his  popularity  among  amateur 
pianists  at  least  rests  upon  smaller  things,  like  "  Aus 
Allen  Herren  Landen,"  for  pianoforte,  four  hands 
(in  which  national  forms  and  styles  are  pleasingly 
imitated),  the  "Etincelles"  and  "Taran  telle." 
There  is  pronounced  nationalism  in  the  composi- 

242 


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National  Schools 


tions  of  Philipp  and  Xaver  Scharwenka  (born  re- 
spectively in  1847  and  1850),  The  latter  has  more 
closely  identified  himself  with  pianoforte  music 
as  performer  and  composer  than  his  elder  brother, 
who  has  devoted  himself  largely  to  teaching,  and 
in  composition  has  shown  a  predilection  for  the 
larger  forms  and  apparatuses.  Xaver  Scharwenka 
has  written  four  pianoforte  concertos,  two  sonatas, 
and  many  smaller  pieces,  including  some  Polish 
dances. 

Bohemia  has  a  musical  history  which  is  quite  as 
brilliant  and  remarkable  as  its  literary,  a  love  for 
music  and  aptitude  in  its  practice  seeming  to  be  the 
birthright  of  every  son  of  the  country,  be  he  German 
or  Czech.  For  over  two  centuries  some  of  the  lead- 
ing musicians  of  Europe,  composers  as  well  as  per- 
formers, have  come  out  of  Bohemia.  Notice  must  be 
taken  of  such  a  list  as  Gyrowetz  (i 763-1850),  Van- 
hal  (already  mentioned  with  other  compatriots), 
Dyonysius  Weber  (1766-1842),  Wranitzky  (1756- 
1808),  Duschek  (1736-1799),  Dreyschock  (to 
whom  we  shall  recur  when  we  reach  the  study  of 
the  virtuosi),  Kalliwoda  (1801-1866),  the  Benda 
family,  especially  Georg  (17 2 2-1 795),  Stamitz 
(1717-1761),  Bendl  (1838-1897),  Skroup  (.1801- 
1862),  Smetana  (1824-1884),  Dvorak  (1841-1904), 
and  Fibich  (1850-1900).  Not  all  of  these  men 
have  significance  in  the  history  of  pianoforte 
music,  but  Antonin  Dvorak  made  notable  contri- 
243 


The  Composers 


butions  to  the  chamber  music  field  with  his  quartet 
and  quintet  for  pianoforte  and  strings,  wrote  a 
pianoforte  concerto  which  deserves  more  attention 
than  it  has  received  from  pianists,  and  enriched 
the  Hterature  of  the  instruments  with  two  forms 
drawn  from  the  folkmusic  of  his  native  land — the 
Dumka,  of  an  elegiac  character,  and  the  Furiant, 
a  wild  scherzo. 

The  name  of  Franz  Liszt  (1811-1886)  looms  large 
in  the  annals  of  the  pianoforte  and  its  music.  His 
playing  established  the  modern  cult  as  well  as  the 
modern  technical  system,  bringing  the  latter  to  as 
high  a  degree  of  perfection  as  seems  possible  with 
the  instrument  constructed  as  it  now  is.  It  was 
Liszt's  good  fortune  to  discover  capabilities  in  the 
pianoforte  which  up  to  his  time  had  not  been  thought 
of,  and  the  fact  that  he  developed  them  more  on  their 
external  side  than  on  their  spiritual  is  accounted  for 
by  the  fact  that  he  was  a  virtuoso  who  from  child- 
hood to  his  death  as  an  old  man  lived  in  the  incense 
of  popular  adulation.  Quite  early  in  his  career  he 
conceived  the  idea  that  the  pianoforte  was  a  uni- 
versal instrument  in  the  sense  that  it  could  be  made 
to  speak  the  language  of  the  entire  instrumental 
company.  When  he  published  his  arrangements  of 
Beethoven's  symphonies  he  stated  that  every  or- 
chestral effect  could  be  reproduced  on  the  piano- 
forte. When  Mendelssohn  read  this  he  turned  to 
the  G  minor  symphony  of  Mozart  and  said:   "Let 

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National  Schools 


me  hear  the  first  eight  measures  with  the  figure  in 
the  violas  played  on  the  pianoforte  so  that  they  will 
sound  as  they  do  in  the  band,  and  I  will  believe  it" 
It  is  not  necessary  to  think  that  Liszt  intended  that 
his  remark  should  be  accepted  in  its  full  literalness; 
but  the  story  serves  to  direct  attention  to  the  high 
merit  of  Liszt  as  a  transcriber,  and  to  the  fact  that 
with  him  the  orchestral  style  came  boldly  into  piano- 
forte music.  It  had  been  lurking  there  since  Bee- 
thoven, but  now  it  came  forward  as  an  aim  not 
merely  as  a  means.  Since  Liszt  opened  new  paths 
there  has  been  no  writer  for  the  instrument  who 
has  not  been  a  greater  composer  for  the  orchestra 
than  for  the  pianoforte.  Let  the  names  of  Raff,  Ru- 
binstein, Saint-Saens,  Tschaikowsky,  and  Brahms 
be  offered  in  evidence.  Liszt's  place  as  an  orig- 
inal composer  of  pianoforte  music  is  still  unde- 
termined, despite  his  two  concertos,  with  their 
superb  tonal  effects  and  their  firmly  knit  logical 
structure;  the  imposing  Sonata  in  B  minor,  the 
"Consolations,"  "Harmonies  poetiques  et  religi- 
euses,"  the  "Dream  Nocturnes,"  "Annees  de  Pele- 
rinage,"  the  "Legendes,"and  the  scintillant  fitudes; 
but  the  transcriptions  of  Schubert's  songs  are 
unique  and  so  are  his  "Hungarian  Rhapsodies," 
which  are  much  more  than  mere  transcriptions, 
though  they  are  constructed  out  of  the  folktunes  of 
the  Magyars,  and  frequently  disclose  the  character- 
istic features  of  the  performances  which  they  re- 
245 


The  Composers 


ceive  at  the  hands  of  the  Gypsies,  from  whom  Liszt 
learned  them.  This  fact  (to  which  Liszt  gave  cur- 
rency in  his  book,  "Des  Bohemiens  et  de  leur 
Musique  en  Hongrie")  has  given  rise  to  the  gen- 
eral belief  that  the  folksongs  of  Hungary  are  of 
Gypsy  origin.  This  belief  is  erroneous,  as  I  have 
argued  in  my  book,  ''How  to  Listen  to  Music," 
from  which  I  draw  what  I  have  still  to  say  on  the 
subject  of  the  Rhapsodies.  The  Gypsies  have  for 
centuries  been  the  musical  practitioners  of  Hun- 
gary, but  they  are  not  the  composers  of  the  music 
of  the  Magyars,  though  they  have  put  a  marked 
impress  not  only  on  the  melodies,  but  also  on  popu- 
lar taste.  The  Hungarian  folksongs  are  a  perfect 
reflex  of  the  national  character  of  the  Magyars,  and 
some  have  been  traced  back  centuries  in  their 
literature.  Though  their  most  marked  melodic 
peculiarity,  the  frequent  use  of  a  minor  scale  con- 
taining one  or  even  two  superfluous  seconds,  may 
be  said  to  belong  to  Oriental  music  generally  (and 
the  Magyars  are  Orientalists),  the  songs  have  a 
rhythmical  peculiarity  which  is  a  direct  product  of 
the  Magyar  language.  This  peculiarity  consists  of 
a  figure  in  which  the  emphasis  is  shifted  from  the 
strong  to  the  weak  part  by  making  the  first  take 
only  a  fraction  of  the  time  of  the  second.  It  is  the 
"Scotch  snap"  already  alluded  to,  but  in  Hun- 
garian music  it  occurs  in  the  middle  of  the  measure 
instead  of  the  beginning.     The  result  is  a  syncopa- 

246 


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tion  which  is  pecuharly  forceful.  There  is  an  in- 
dubitable Oriental  relic  in  the  profuse  embellish- 
ments which  the  Gypsies  weave  around  the  Hun- 
garian melodies  when  playing  them;  but  the  fact 
that  they  thrust  the  same  embellishments  upon 
Spanish  and  Russian  music — indeed,  upon  all  the 
music  which  they  play — indicates  plainly  enough 
that  the  impulse  to  do  so  is  native  to  them,  and  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  national  taste  of  the  countries 
for  which  they  provide  music. 

Liszt's  confessed  purpose  in  writing  the  "Hun- 
garian Rhapsodies"  was  to  create  what  he  called 
"Gypsy  Epics."  He  had  gathered  a  large  num- 
ber of  the  melodies  without  a  definite  purpose,  and 
was  pondering  what  to  do  with  them  when  it 
occurred  to  him  that 

These  fragmentary,  scattered  melodies  were  the  wandering, 
floating,  nebulous  part  of  a  great  whole,  that  they  fully  an- 
swered the  conditions  for  the  production  of  a  harmonious 
unity  which  would  comprehend  the  very  flower  of  their 
essential  properties,  their  most  unique  beauties,  .  .  .  and 
might  be  united  in  one  homogeneous  body,  a  complete  work, 
its  divisions  to  be  so  arranged  that  each  song  would  form  at 
once  a  whole  and  a  part,  which  might  be  severed  from  the 
rest  and  be  examined  by  and  for  itself;  but  which  would, 
nevertheless,  belong  to  the  whole  through  the  close  affinity  of 
subject-matter,  the  similar  character  of  its  inner  nature  and 
unity  in  development. 

The  basis  of  Liszt's  "Rhapsodies"  being  thus 
distinctly  national,  he  has  in  a  manner  indicated  in 
their  character  and  tempo  the  dual  character  of  the 

247 


The  Composers 


Hungarian  national  dance,  the  Czardas,  which  con- 
sists of  two  movements,  a  Lassu,  or  slow  movement, 
followed  by  a  Friss.  These  alternate  at  the  will 
of  the  dancers,  who  give  a  sign  to  the  band  when 
they  wish  to  change  from  one  to  the  other. 

One  of  the  formal  characteristics  of  Liszt's  con- 
certos, though  not  wholly  new  at  the  time  when 
Liszt  composed  the  first  (between  1840  and  1848), 
was  less  common  then  than  now,  and  no  doubt 
helped  it  to  win  its  wide  popularity.  Their  move- 
ments are  fused  into  a  whole  by  omission  of  the 
customary  pauses  and  by  community  of  theme. 
Wherein  the  first  concerto  was  chiefly  remarkable 
at  the  time  of  its  composition  is  the  consistency 
and  ingenuity  with  which  the  principal  theme  of  the 
work  (the  stupendously  energetic  phrase  which  the 
orchestra  proclaims  at  the  outset)  is  transformed  to 
make  it  express  a  great  variety  of  moods  and  to  give 
unity  to  the  work.  "Thus,  by  means  of  this  meta- 
morphosis," says  Edward  Dannreuther,  "the  poetic 
unity  of  the  whole  musical  tissue  is  made  apparent 
in  spite  of  very  great  diversity  of  details;  and  Cole- 
ridge's attempt  at  a  definition  of  poetic  beauty — 
unity  in  multiety — is  carried  out  to  the  letter." 

Of  all  the  schools  of  composition  based  on  folk- 
music  the  Russian  is  now  at  once  the  most  asser- 
tive, the  most  vigorous,  and  (outside  of  pianoforte 
music,  at  least)  the  most  characteristic.  In  or- 
chestral works  there  is  no  mistaking  the  utterances 
of  composers  like  Borodin  (1834-1887),  Balakirew 

248 


National  Schools 


(1836-1910),  and  Moussorgsky  (1839-1881).  Their 
idioms  are  taken  straight  from  the  lips  of  the  Rus- 
sian peasantry,  and  compared  with  them  Anton 
Rubinstein  (i 830-1 894)  and  P.  I.  Tschaikowsky 
(1840-1893),  who  were  practically  the  only  Rus- 
sians whose  music  was  known  outside  of  the  czar's 
empire  twenty-five  years  ago  (Glinka  can  hardly  be 
called  an  exception),  are  not  striking  representatives 
of  the  school  to  which  they  are  supposed  to  belong 
by  reason  of  their  nationality.  Rubinstein  offers  a 
troublesome  proposition  in  several  respects.  That 
he  himself  realized  the  fact  is  amusingly  (and  yet  a 
bit  pathetically)  illustrated  by  his  remark  that  he 
was  at  a  loss  what  to  call  himself,  the  Russians  say- 
ing that  he  was  a  German,  the  Germans  that  he  was 
a  Russian,  the  Christians  that  he  was  a  Jew,  the 
Jews  that  he  was  a  Christian,  the  classicists  that  he 
was  romantic,  and  the  romanticists  that  he  was  a 
classic.  "Neither  fish,  flesh,  nor  fowl"  might  have 
been  his  comment  had  he  been  a  quoter  of  English 
saws;  "Issachar,  a  strong  ass  couching  down  be- 
tween two  burdens,"  had  he  had  a  keener  sense  of 
humor,  coupled  with  a  knowledge  of  the  book  of 
Genesis.  With  the  Young  Russian  School  {Kusch- 
ka)  Rubinstein  had  only  a  modicum  of  sympathy. 
He  says  of  it: 

It  is  the  outcome  of  the  influence  of  Berlioz  and  Liszt.  .  .  . 
Its  creations  are  based  on  thorough  control  of  technical  re- 
sources and  masterly  application  of  color,  but  on  total  absence 
249 


The  Composers 


of  outline  and  predominating  absence  of  form.  .  .  .  Whether 
something  is  to  be  hoped  for  in  the  future  from  this  tendency 
I  do  not  know,  but  would  not  doubt  it  altogether,  for  I  believe 
that  the  peculiarity  of  the  melody  and  rhythm  and  the  unusual 
character  of  Russian  folkmusic  may  permit  of  a  new  fructifi- 
cation of  music  in  general.  Besides,  some  of  the  representa- 
tives of  this  new  tendency  are  not  without  notable  talent. 

Balakirew  was  the  head  of  this  school.  He, 
said  Borodin,  was  the  hen  that  laid  the  eggs,  which 
were  all  alike  at  first,  out  of  which  came  the  chicks 
which  were  no  sooner  hatched  than  they  took  on 
plumages  of  their  own  and  flew  away  in  different 
directions.  Balakirew  and  his  companions,  Cesar 
Cui  (1835),  Moussorgsky  and  Rimsky-Korsakow, 
play  only  a  small  part,  comparatively  speaking,  in 
pianoforte  music,  and  of  their  earlier  contempora- 
ries Rubinstein  and  Tschaikowsky  are  far  and  away 
the  most  significant.  The  besetting  sin  of  Rubin- 
stein as  a  composer  was  his  lack  of  a  capacity  for 
self-criticism.  He  felt,  and  correctly,  that  he  was 
cut  out  for  large  things,  but  he  was  impatient  of  his 
own  industry,  and  though  inclined  to  Titanic 
thoughts,  like  Beethoven,  whom  he  sometimes  sug- 
gests in  his  slow  movements,  could  not  "learn  to 
labor  and  to  wait,"  as  the  supreme  master  did. 
The  climax  of  Rubinstein's  popularity  as  a  com- 
poser was  coincident  with  the  climax  of  his  popu- 
larity as  a  player.  Half  a  generation  has  passed 
away  since  his  death,  and  much  has  been  written 

250 


National  Schools 


since  of  the  fading  of  his  music;  but  of  his  three 
concertos  that  in  D  minor  still  glows  with  beauty; 
pianists  still  perform  his  "Staccato  Etude"  and 
"Study  on  False  Notes"  in  the  concert-room; 
amateurs  still  revel  in  his  "Melodic"  in  F  and  the 
one  of  the  numbers  of  his  "Kammenoi  Ostrow," 
and  many  players  of  chamber  music  are  loath  to 
give  up  his  Sonata  in  A  for  pianoforte  and  violin 
(Op.  19),  the  three  sonatas  for  pianoforte  and  vio- 
loncello, the  best  of  the  five  trios,  the  quintet  for 
pianoforte  and  strings,  or  the  octet  for  pianoforte, 
violin,  viola,  violoncello,  double-bass,  flute,  clarinet, 
and  horn.  Tschaikowsky's  pianoforte  solos  have 
won  little  favor  compared  with  the  first  of  his  two 
concertos  (in  B-flat  minor)  and  the  Trio  in  A  minor. 
Mrs.  Newmarch,  reviewing  his  works  in  Grove's 
"Dictionary,"  says:  "His  single  pianoforte  sonata 
is  heavy  in  material  and  treatment,  and  cannot  be 
reckoned  a  fine  example  of  its  kind.  A  few  of  his 
fugitive  pieces  are  agreeable,  and  the  variations 
in  F  show  that  at  the  time  of  their  composition 
he  must  have  been  interested  in  thematic  develop- 
ment, but  the  world  would  not  be  much  the  poorer 
for  the  loss  of  all  that  he  has  written  for  piano 
solo." 

Balakirew's    pianoforte    compositions    are    not 

many,  and  when  his  name  is  seen  on  the  programme 

of  a  pianoforte  recital  it  is  in  connection  with  his 

Oriental  fantasy  "Islamey."     The  majority  of  the 

251 


The  Composers 


pianoforte  pieces  of  Nicholas  Andrievich  Rimsky- 
Korsakow  (1844-1908)  are  variations,  one  set  end- 
ing with  a  fugue  on  the  famihar  subject  "B-a-c-h" 
and  one  set  having  a  folksong  theme.  The  suc- 
cessors of  these  men,  the  younger  composers  of  to- 
day, have  cultivated  the  field  more  industriously, 
though  some  of  them  have  had  to  depend  largely 
for  their  popularity  on  a  single  lucky  hit,  like  Lia- 
dow's  (1859)  "Musical  Snuff-Box"  ("Tabatiere  k 
Musique")  and  Rachmaninow's  (1873)  C-sharp 
minor  prelude.  The  latter  musician,  however, 
has  written  three  concertos,  and  is  inclined  toward 
work  of  large  dimensions.  Other  representatives 
of  the  school  are  Alexandre  Glazounow  (1865), 
suite  on  the  name  " S-a-s-c-h-a,"  etude  "La  Nuit," 
Mazurka  (Op.  25,  No.  3),  Nocturne  (Op.  37); 
Nicolai  de  Stcherbatchew  (1853),  "Feeries  et  Pan- 
tomimes," Scherzo  capriccio  (Op.  17),  "Mosaique" 
(Op.  15);  Joseph  Wihtol  (1863),  variations  on  a 
Lettish  theme  (Op.  6);  W.  Rebikow  (1867),  "Au- 
tumn Dreams"  (Op.  8);  Alexandre  Scriabin  (1871), 
sonata  (Op.  6),  "Allegro  appassionata"  (Op.  4), 
"Sonata-fantasie"  (Op.  19),  and  twelve  etudes; 
Felix  Blumenfeld  (1863),  etude  "La  Mer,"  "Fan- 
tasies-etudes" (Op.  25),  and  a  Polish  suite  (dedi- 
cated to  Paderewski);  S.  Liapounow  (1859), 
"Etudes  d'execution  transcendantes "  (Op.  11); 
Antony  Stemanovich  Arensky  (1861),  "Esquisses" 
(Op,  24),  Concerto  in  F,  Caprices  (Op.  43),  and 
252 


CARL   TAUSIG. 


National  Schools 


some    interesting   experiments   in   antique   metres 
called  "Lagodees"  and  "Peons." 

Except  for  the  works  of  a  small  coterie  of  men 
who  are  striving  to  emancipate  French  music 
from  the  influence  of  Wagner  and  can  think  of 
no  way  save  to  throw  the  diatonic  system  over- 
board, the  pianoforte  music  of  France  to-day  dis- 
closes no  special  characteristics.  The  whole  tone 
scale  of  these  men  is  in  no  sense  national,  and  since 
the  movement  is  still  in  an  experimental  stage,  it 
follows  that  the  taste  of  French  music-lovers  is  still 
represented  by  the  older  composers  who  combine 
accepted  systems  with  the  individuality,  elegance, 
and  grace  which  distinguish  French  art  in  all  its 
phases.  Chief  of  these  composers  is  Camille  Saint- 
Saens,  born  in  1835,  who,  though  he  gave  his  first 
public  concert  in  1846,  is  still,  after  sixty-four  years, 
the  most  energetic  and  enterprising  of  French  mu- 
sicians. A  generation  ago  Dr.  von  Biilow,  describ- 
ing one  of  his  feats  in  prima  vista  score-reading, 
called  him  "the  greatest  musical  mind  of  the  day," 
and  for  sound  learning  it  is  doubtful  if  M.  Saint- 
Saens  has  found  a  rival  since.  Like  the  majority 
of  French  composers,  he  has  written  much  for  the 
lyric  stage,  and  his  operas  preserve  national  ideals; 
but  his  propensity  for  travel  has  taken  him  to  many 
parts  of  the  earth,  and  in  his  journeys  he  has  gath- 
ered elements  of  local  color  and  utilized  them  in 
some  of  his  pianoforte  pieces,  such  as  a  "Caprice 

253 


The  Composers 


on  Russian  Airs"  for  pianoforte  and  three  wind 
instruments,  "Africa,"  a  fantasia  for  pianoforte 
and  orchestra,  and  "  Caprice  Arabe"  for  two  piano- 
fortes, four  hands.  Of  his  four  concertos  the 
second,  in  G  minor  (in  the  introduction  to  which  he 
pays  a  gracious  tribute  to  Bach),  is  of  first-class 
importance,  while  the  fourth,  in  C  minor,  still  holds 
a  place  in  the  programmes  of  virtuosi.  A  prede- 
cessor in  the  serious  school,  but  not  so  many-sided 
a  musician  as  he,  was  C.  H.  V.  M.  Alkan  (called 
Alkan  aine,  1813-1888),  who  is  chiefly  noteworthy 
now  for  his  studies,  especially  those  for  the  pedals, 
Cesar  Franck  (1822-1890)  was  an  organist  of 
great  distinction,  as  was  also  Saint-Saens  in  his 
early  days;  but  he  gave  less  attention  than  the 
latter  to  the  pianoforte  and  devoted  himself  more 
assiduously  to  the  ecclesiastical  instrument  and  the 
forms  of  composition  to  which  it  directed  his  mind, 
which  had  a  distinctly  religious  and  mystical  bent. 
His  most  notable  contributions  to  chamber  music 
employing  the  pianoforte  with  other  instruments 
are  four  trios,  a  quintet,  and,  best  of  all,  a  sonata 
with  violin.  Of  his  compositions  fitted  to  the 
larger  concert-rooms  that  which  has  retained  the 
greatest  vitality  is  the  "Variations  symphoniques" 
for  pianoforte  and  orchestra.  A  piece  of  similar 
dimensions  and  apparatus  is  "Les  Djinns,"  a  sym- 
phonic poem  for  pianoforte  and  orchestra,  as  he 
called  it.     Franck  found  his  ideals  in  the  music  of 

254 


National  Schools 


the  great  Germans,  and  so  did  his  pupil  Vincent 
d'Indy,  born  in  185 1,  who,  after  the  death  of  his 
master,  became  the  head  of  the  would-be  revolu- 
tionists of  French  music.  Saint-Saens  had  used 
the  pianoforte  as  an  orchestral  instrument  in  his 
symphony  in  C  minor;  d'Indy  does  the  same,  but 
lifts  it  into  greater  prominence  in  his  "Symphony 
on  a  Mountain  Air,"  in  which  the  melody  of  a  folk- 
song is  treated  as  an  idee  fixe.  Chief  of  the  younger 
men  who  in  small  descriptive  pieces  marvellous  for 
finish  of  harmonic  detail  and  intervallic  novelty  are 
Claude  Achille  Debussy,  born  in  1862,  and  Maurice 
Ravel,  born  in  1875. 

Italy,  the  cradle  of  opera,  is  still  its  nursery  to 
the  exclusion,  almost,  of  all  other  forms.  Since  it 
yielded  the  sceptre  to  Germany  in  the  eighteenth 
century  it  has  not  produced  an  instrumental  com- 
poser of  first-class  importance.  There  are,  however, 
a  few  men  who  stand  for  other  things  than  opera, 
and  among  them  are  three  who  deserve  mention  in 
these  studies.  They  are  Giovanni  Sgambati,  born 
in  1843;  Giuseppe  Martucci,  born  in  1856,  and  En- 
rico Bossi,  born  in  1861.  The  first  two  began  their 
careers  as  brilliant  pianists  and  later  took  up  com- 
position and  teaching.  In  Sgambati's  Concerto  in 
G  minor,  and  two  pianoforte  quintets,  Martucci's 
Concerto  in  B-flat  minor,  quintet  with  strings  and 
sonata  with  violoncello,  as  well  as  in  the  smaller 
solo  works  of  the  two  men,  their  consummate  mas- 
25s 


The  Composers 


tery  of  the  resources  of  the  instrument  is  much  in 
evidence.  Bossi  is  an  organist  and  composer  for 
the  organ  in  the  first  instance,  which  fact  explains 
his  leaning  toward  chamber  music  and  the  large 
sacred  forms. 

England's  glory  in  the  field  of  music  for  key- 
board stringed  instruments  is  in  the  distant  past; 
that  of  the  United  States  is  yet  to  come.  America 
has  produced  a  considerable  number  of  sterling 
musicians  within  the  last  fifty  years,  but  those 
among  them  who  have  distinguished  themselves  as 
composers  for  the  pianoforte  are  not  many.  Chad- 
wick,  Parker,  and  Converse  have  kept  their  eyes 
fixed  on  other  goals.  Distinctly  pianistic  talents  of 
a  high  order  were  possessed  by  Louis  Moreau  Gott- 
schalk  (1829-1869),  and  Edward  A.  MacDowell 
(1861-1907).  Their  ideals  were  far  apart,  Gott- 
schalk  being  a  salon  sentimentalist  and  MacDowell 
a  musical  poet  of  fine  fibre.  In  one  thing  they  strove 
along  parallel  lines,  though  only  incidentally.  In 
his  "Bananier"  and  "La  Savane,"  Gottschalk  used 
folk-melodies  of  the  Southern  plantations  as  themes 
and  in  his  second  orchestral  suite  and  one  of  his 
"Woodland  Sketches"  for  pianoforte  solo,  Mac- 
Dowell called  into  service  melodies  of  the  red  men 
of  North  America.  The  efforts  were  tentative,  but 
I  have  no  doubt  their  influence  will  some  day  be 
felt.  Of  larger  significance  from  the  view-point  of 
universal  art  are  MacDowell's  two  concertos  (in 
256 


National  Schools 


A  minor  and  D  minor),  his  four  sonatas  ("Tragica," 
"Eroica,"  "Norse,"  and  "Keltic"),  and  a  suite  in 
which  the  influence  of  his  master  Raff  is  as  obvious 
as  that  of  Grieg  is  in  his  later  compositions.  The 
sentimental  salon  style  was  tastefully  and  success- 
fully cultivated  by  Ethelbert  Nevin  (1862-1901). 
Henry  Holden  Huss,  born  in  1862,  has  published 
a  concerto  besides  a  number  of  smaller  pieces, 
and  Arthur  Whiting,  born  in  1861,  a  Fantasy  in 
B-flat  minor  for  pianoforte  and  orchestra,  a  "Suite 
moderne"  (Op.  15),  and  three  waltzes  which  are 
extremely  interesting  and  in  a  nice  sense  idiomatic 
of  the  pianoforte. 


257 


Part  III 
The  Players 


XII 

Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

THE  art  of  pianoforte  playing  has  been  de- 
veloped hand  in  hand  with  the  instrument 
and  the  music  composed  for  it.  The  action  of  the 
evolutionary  factors  has  been  reciprocal — mechani- 
cal elements  suggesting  or  compelling  manner  and 
limitation  of  performance,  technical  resources  invit- 
ing or  prohibiting  the  character  of  musical  ideas, 
and  these,  in  turn,  urging  to  improvement  in  mech- 
anism and  technical  manipulation.  The  manu- 
facturer, composer,  and  performer  are  thus  fellow- 
agents  in  the  evolution  of  pianoforte  music,  receiv- 
ing encouragement  in  strivings  toward  both  good 
and  bad  ends  from  popular  taste,  which  is  itself  a 
product  of  the  co-operation  of  all  the  factors  in  the 
art-sum. 

With  earnest  endeavor,  and  so  far  as  the  limita- 
tions of  this  book  permitted,  I  have  made  a  study 
of  the  evolution  of  the  instrument  and  the  music 
composed  for  it,  and  I  must  now  address  myself 
to  the  third  factor,  the  virtuoso.  Were  it  not  for 
the  fact  that  he  is  at  once  a  reflex  and  embodi- 

261 


The  Players 

ment  of  the  popular  taste,  of  which  he  is  also  to 
a  large  extent  the  creator,  he  would  not  be  an  in- 
teresting or  profitable  subject  of  study.  Ideahsm, 
and  therefore  unselfishness  in  a  fine  sense,  which 
are  the  necessary  attributes  of  every  great  creator 
in  art,  are  exceptional  qualities  in  the  professional 
reproducer.  It  is,  therefore,  a  less  deplorable  cir- 
cumstance than  it  seems  to  be  in  the  minds  of  sen- 
timental rhapsodists  that  the  fame  of  the  ordinary 
virtuoso  is  evanescent,  that  all  that  posterity  holds 
of  him  and  his  is  anecdote  (which  is  seldom  valu- 
able), or,  at  the  best,  pedagogical  material. 

Of  course  I  am  speaking  now  of  the  mere  vir- 
tuoso. If  a  virtuoso  be  in  the  true  sense  an  artist, 
he  will  be  more  than  reproducer;  he  will  be  a 
creator  also,  giving  out  so  much  of  himself  as  has 
been  released  by  sympathetic  interest  along  with 
the  intellectual  and  emotional  product  of  the  com- 
poser. Virtuosi  inflamed  with  generous  and  noble 
sympathies  are,  therefore,  of  infinitely  higher  rank 
than  virtuosi  whose  bent  is  toward  the  petty  and 
ignoble.  In  this  lies  the  morality  of  the  art.  It  is 
the  former  who  win  a  reward  like  that  of  the  com- 
poser, though  they  may  not  meet  with  the  same 
measure  of  material  recompense  as  their  worldly- 
wise  and  unworthier  companions.  They  create 
traditions  which  are  fragrant;  they  leave  a  heritage 
which  is  enduring  and  fruitful.  They  live  on  after 
death  in  those  who,  possessed  of  the  same  artistic 

262 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

and  ethical  qualities,  have  learned  from  them  and 
follow  their  example. 

Unfortunately  virtuosi  of  this  class  are  not  nu- 
merous and  never  have  been.  The  many  are  those 
who  seek  success  in  the  favor  of  the  multitude  and 
to  win  it  pander  to  the  predilections  of  the  crowd. 
The  crowd,  however,  can  no  more  occupy  the  high- 
est plane  in  musical  appreciation  than  in  wisdom 
or  morality;  hence,  the  most  successful  virtuosi,  as 
a  rule,  are  those  whose  capacities,  physical,  intel- 
lectual, emotional,  and  moral,  are  best  adjusted  to 
popular  taste,  not  so  much,  perhaps,  in  what  may 
be  called  its  ground  swell  as  in  the  fleeting  ripples, 
eddies,  and  curling  froth  on  its  surface,  the  phe- 
nomena of  fad  and  fashion.  Such  virtuosi  can  have 
no  abiding  place  in  the  sympathy  or  even  the  in- 
terest of  the  serious  critic  or  historian  except  as 
their  example  be  used  "for  doctrine,  for  reproof, 
for  correction,  for  instruction  in  righteousness"; 
there  is  small  room  for  them  in  these  articles. 

Very  little  is  known  about  the  methods  of  study 
pursued  by  the  early  clavier  performers.  The  mu- 
sic of  the  English  virginalists  indicates  that  fieetness 
of  finger  was  as  essential  in  the  sixteenth  century  as 
it  is  in  the  twentieth,  and  when  one  reflects  on  the 
system  of  fingering  which  seems  to  have  prevailed 
up  to  the  time  of  Johann  Sebastian  Bach  it  is 
almost  inconceivable  how  sufficient  digital  dexterity 
to  play  the  music  of  the  early  virginalists  and  harp- 
263 


The  Players 

sichordists  could  be  acquired.^  The  rules  for  fin- 
gering generally  in  use  to-day  date  back  only  to 
C.  P.  E.  Bach.  ''The  earliest  marked  fingering  of 
which  we  have  any  knowledge,"  says  Mr.  D.  J. 
Blaikley,  in  his  admirable  essay  on  the  subject  in 
Grove's  "Dictionary  of  Music  and  Musicians," 
"is  that  given  by  Ammerbach  in  his  'Orgel  oder 
Instrument  Tabulatur'  (Leipsic,  1571).  This,  hke 
all  the  fingering  in  use  then  and  for  long  afterward, 
is  characterized  by  the  almost  complete  avoidance 
of  the  use  of  the  thumb  and  little  finger,  the  former 

*  A  letter  first  published  in  1854  by  S.  Caffi  in  a  history  of  church 
music  and  reprinted  in  Weitzmann's  "Geshichte  des  Clavierspiels 
und  der  Clavierliteratur,"  would  seem  to  indicate  that  fully  as 
much  time  was  consumed  in  learning  to  play  the  clavichord  in  the 
sixteenth  century  as  is  required  to  become  proficient  on  the  piano- 
forte to-day.  The  writer  of  the  letter  was  Pietro  Bembo,  eminent 
as  poet  and  scholar  in  the  first  quarter  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
His  daughter,  a  pupil  in  a  convent  school,  had  asked  permission 
to  learn  the  clavichord,  or  monochord  as  it  was  then  also  called. 
The  father  replied: 

"Concerning  your  request  to  be  permitted  to  learn  to  play  the 
monochord  I  reply  (since  you  cannot  know  the  fact  because  of 
your  tender  age)  that  to  play  upon  the  instrument  is  suitable  only 
to  vain  and  frivolous  women;  but  I  want  you  to  be  the  most 
amiable,  pure,  and  modest  woman  on  earth.  Moreover,  it  would 
bring  you  little  pleasure  to  play  ill  and  not  a  little  humiliation. 
But  to  play  well  you  will  have  to  practise  ten  to  twelve  years  to 
the  exclusion  of  all  else.  Consider  for  yourself,  regardless  of  me, 
whether  or  not  this  would  be  worth  while.  If,  now,  your  friends 
wish  that  you  shall  learn  in  order  to  give  them  pleasure  say  to 
them  that  you  do  not  care  to  make  a  laughing-stock  of  yourself  to 
your  own  humiliation;  and  content  yourself  with  books  and 
embroidery." 

264 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

being  only  occasionally  marked  in  the  left  hand, 
and  the  latter  never  employed  except  in  the  play- 
ing of  intervals  of  not  less  than  a  fourth  in  the 
same  hand." 

An  Italian  system  to  which  Mr,  Blaikley  makes 
no  reference  would  seem  to  show  that  eighty-five 
years  after  the  publication  of  Ammerbach's  book 
an  even  more  primitive  system  of  fingering  pre- 
vailed in  Italy.  In  Lorenzo  Penna's  "Li  Primo 
Albori  musicali,"  published  in  Bologna  in  1656,  it 
is  set  down  that  ascending  scales  are  to  be  played 
by  the  middle  and  ring  fingers  alternately  of  the 
right  hand,  and  middle  and  index  fingers  of  the  left; 
in  descending  the  process  is  to  be  reversed — middle 
and  index  fingers  alternately  of  the  right  hand,  and 
middle  and  ring  fingers  of  the  left.  Mr.  Blaikley's 
explanation  of  these  stiff  and  awkward  kinds  of 
fingering  is  this: 

In  the  first  place,  the  organ  and  clavichord  not  being  tuned 
upon  the  system  of  equal  temperament,  music  for  these  instru- 
ments was  written  only  in  the  simplest  keys,  with  the  black 
keys  rarely  used,  and  in  the  second  place  the  keyboards  of 
the  earlier  organs  were  usually  placed  so  high  above  the  seat 
of  the  player  that  the  elbows  were  of  necessity  considerably 
lower  than  the  fingers.  The  consequence  of  the  hands  being 
held  in  this  position  and  of  the  black  keys  being  seldom  required 
would  be  that  the  three  long  fingers  stretched  out  horizontally 
would  be  chiefly  used,  while  the  thumb  and  little  finger,  being 
too  short  to  reach  the  keys  without  difficulty,  would  simply 
hang  down  below  the  level  of  the  keyboard. 
265 


The  Players 

But  while  the  pedagogues  prescribed  systems 
there  were  empiricists,  no  doubt  in  large  numbers, 
who  practised  whatever  way  seemed  to  them  best 
in  the  application  of  the  fingers  to  the  keys.  They 
had  a  valiant  champion,  too,  in  Prsetorius,  who,  in 
his  "Syntagma  Musicum"  (1619),  wrote:  "Many 
think  it  matter  of  great  importance  and  despise  such 
organists  as  do  not  use  this  or  that  particul-ar  finger- 
ing, which  in  my  opinion  is  not  worth  the  talk;  for 
let  a  player  run  up  or  down  with  either  first,  middle, 
or  third  finger,  aye,  even  with  his  nose,  if  that 
could  help  him,  provided  that  everything  is  done 
clearly,  correctly,  and  gracefully,  it  does  not  much 
matter  how  or  in  what  manner  it  is  accomplished." 

A  sparing  use  of  the  thumb  is  timidly  suggested 
by  Purcell  in  his  "  Choice  Collection  of  Lessons  for 
the  Harpsichord"  (about  1700),  and  Couperin  in 
his  "De  la  Toucher  le  Clevecin"  (1717);  but  when 
Bach  took  up  the  matter  he  revolutionized  it  com- 
pletely, as  indeed  he  had  to  do  to  make  his  system 
of  equal  temperament  and  the  free  use  of  all  the 
modes  practicable.  Bach  transformed  the  attitude 
of  the  hand  at  once.  The  three  fingers,  instead  of 
V.  lying  horizontally  with  the  keys,  were  bent  so  that 
their  tips  rested  perpendicularly  on  the  keys.  This 
brought  the  hand  forward  on  the  keyboard  and 
raised  the  wrists.  Thus  a  smart  blow  could,  when 
need  be,  take  the  place  of  pressure — a  very  impor- 
tant thing  when  the  harpsichord  gave  way  to  the 
266 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

pianoforte  and  quilled  jacks  to  hammers,  that  is, 
when  the  strings  were  struck  instead  of  plucked. 
Bach  also  fixed  the  place  of  the  thumb  in  the  scale 
and  used  it  and  the  little  j&nger  freely  in  all  posi- 
tions. In  his  playing  Bach  cultivated  evenness  of 
touch  by  ending  each  application,  not  by  lifting  the 
finger  from  the  key,  but  drawing  it  inwardly  toward 
the  palm  of  the  hand  with  a  caressing  motion,  which 
transferred  the  requisite  amount  of  pressure  to  the 
next  finger  in  passage  playing.  Forkel  says  that  the 
movement  of  Bach's  fingers  was  so  slight  as  to  be 
scarcely  noticeable.  The  position  of  his  hand  re- 
m-ained  unchanged,  and  he  held  the  rest  of  his  body 
motionless. 

His  contemporary,  Handel,  who  was  also  highly 
esteemed  as  a  harpsichordist,  used  the  same  hand 
position.  Burney  said  his  fingers  "seemed  to  grow 
to  the  keys,  they  were  so  curved  and  compact  when 
he  played  that  no  motion,  and  scarcely  the  fingers 
themselves,  could  be  discovered."  C.  P.  E.  Bach 
in  his  "Versuch,"  while  enforcing  the  need  of  a 
quiet  movement  of  the  hands,  nevertheless  fore- 
shadows a  change  to  a  practice  which  in  the  course 
of  time  became  an  abomination.  The  mechanical 
principle  of  the  pianoforte  invited  a  blow  upon  the 
keys.  Bach,  therefore,  to  secure  power,  permitted  a 
lifting  of  the  hands  in  the  delivery  of  the  blow. 
This,  he  said,  was  not  an  error,  but  good  and  neces- 
sary so  long  as  it  could  be  done  in  a  manner  "not 
267 


The  Players 

too  suggestive  of  wood-chopping."  Wood-chop- 
ping would  be  an  inexpressive  simile  applied  to  the 
actions  of  many  pianists  since. 

The  clavichord  lent  itself  best  to  an  expressive 
singing  style  of  playing,  the  harpsichord  to  a  crisp 
and  scintillant  staccato.  The  former  instrument 
could  not  be  used  in  public  performances,  but  its 
greater  soulfulness  made  it  an  invaluable  prepara- 
tory instrument  for  the  '  pianoforte.  At  Vienna, 
Burney,  on  his  historical  tour,  heard  a  child  play  on 
the  pianoforte  with  such  nice  command  of  nuance 
that  he  inquired  on  what  instrument  she  had  prac- 
tised. He  was  told  the  clavichord,  which  led  him 
to  comment  as  follows:  "This  accounts  for  her 
expression  and  convinces  me  that  children  should 
learn  upon  this  or  a  pianoforte  very  early,  and  be 
obliged  to  give  an  expression  to  'Lady  Coventry's 
Minuet,'  or  whatever  their  first  tune,  otherwise  after 
long  practice  on  a  monotonous  harpsichord,  how- 
ever useful  for  strengthening  the  hand,  the  case  is 
hopeless." 

The  accounts  of  Mozart's  playing  are  not  many, 
but  taken  in  connection  with  his  comments  on  some 
of  the  virtuosi  whom  he  encountered  on  his  travels 
it  is  plain  that  his  style  was  chiefly  distinguished  by 
its  musical  qualities;  its  charm  came  from  its  ex- 
pressiveness, its  grace  and  lucidity,  combined  with 
truthfulness  of  emotional  utterance.  In  1781,  when 
he  met  Clementi  in  rivalry  at  the  Austrian  court,  the 
268 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

two,  after  producing  set  pieces  of  their  own  compo- 
sition, varied  a  theme  which  the  emperor  gave 
them.  Long  afterward  Clementi  said:  "Until  then 
I  had  never  heard  anybody  play  with  so  much  in- 
telhgence  and  charm.  I  was  particularly  surprised 
by  an  adagio  and  a  number  of  his  extemporized 
variations  on  a  theme  chosen  by  the  emperor,  which 
we  were  obliged  to  vary  alternately,  each  accom- 
panying the  other." 

Mozart  was  less  gracious  in  his  opinion  of  his 
rival.  He  called  the  great  Roman  a  mere  "mech- 
anician" {Mechaniais),  with  a  great  knack  in  pass- 
ages in  thirds,  but  not  a  pennyworth  of  feeling  or 
taste.  Mozart,  it  is  plain,  was  prejudiced  against 
Italian  players  as  a  rule.  He  had  no  patience,  in- 
deed, with  the  display  of  mere  digital  dexterity  which 
many  of  the  virtuosi  of  his  day  made,  to  the  neg- 
lect of  taste  in  tempo  and  expression.  Kullak  re- 
views his  qualities  as  follows:  "Delicacy  and  taste, 
with  his  lifting  of  the  entire  technique  to  the  spirit- 
ual aspiration  of  the  idea,  elevate  him  as  a  virtuoso 
to  a  height  unanimously  conceded  by  the  public,  by 
connoisseurs  and  by  artists  capable  of  judging. 
.  .  .  Dittersdorf  finds  art  and  taste  combined  in 
his  playing;  Haydn  asseverated  with  tears  that 
Mozart's  playing  he  could  never  forget,  for  it 
touched  his  heart;  his  staccato  is  said  to  have 
possessed  a  peculiarly  brilliant  charm." 

At  the  beginning  of  his  career  the  instrument  for 
269 


The  Players 

Mozart's  intimate  communings  was  the  clavichord; 
for  his  public  performances  the  harpsichord.  When 
the  pianoforte  came  under  his  notice  he  gave  it  his 
enthusiastic  adherence  at  once,  and  he  seems  to  have 
succeeded  in  combining  in  it  the  best  qualities  of  its 
predecessors.  Writing  about  his  visit  to  Mann- 
heim in  1777,  his  mother  said:  "Wolfgang  is  highly 
appreciated  everywhere,  but  he  plays  very  differ- 
ently than  he  did  in  Salzburg,  for  here  pianofortes 
are  to  be  found  on  all  sides,  and  he  handles  them 
incomparably,  as  they  have  never  been  heard  before. 
In  a  word,  everybody  who  hears  him  says  that  his 
equal  is  not  to  be  found."  His  predilection  for  the 
instrument  may  be  said  to  have  led  to  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Vienna  school  of  pianoforte  playing,  for 
which  the  foundations  were  laid  by  his  pupil  Hum- 
mel, and  him  who  would  gladly  have  been  his  pupil 
— Beethoven.  This  school  cultivated  warmth  of 
expression  combined  with  limpidity  and  symmetry 
of  melodic  contour,  while  that  founded  by  Clementi 
tended  to  virtuosity  and  systematic  development  of 
technique. 

It  was  Clementi  who  opened  the  way  to  the 
modern  style  of  playing,  with  its  greater  sonority 
and  capacity  for  effects.  Under  him  passage  play- 
ing became  something  almost  new;  deftness,  light- 
ness, and  fluency  were  replaced,  or  consorted  with 
stupendous  virtuosoship  which  rested  on  a  full  and 
solid  tone.  Clementi  is  said  to  have  been  able  to 
270 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

trill  in  octaves  with  one  hand.  Mozart's  opinion 
of  him  in  1781  looks  less  jaundiced  when  brought 
into  juxtaposition  with  a  confession  which  he  made 
in  later  years  than  it  does  when  contrasted  with 
dementi's  praise  of  his  rival.  To  his  pupil  Ludwig 
Berger,  Clementi  said  that  in  the  early  part  of  his 
career  he  had  cultivated  brilliant  and  dashing  dex- 
terity, particularly  passages  in  double  notes,  which 
at  that  time  were  unusual,  and  that  he  had  acquired 
a  nobler  cantabile  style  later,  being  led  thereto  by 
careful  attention  to  famous  singers  and  the  grad- 
ual perfection  of  the  English  pianofortes.  A  re- 
poseful attitude  of  the  hand  was  also  one  of  his 
characteristics,  for  he  was  perhaps  the  first  of  the 
players  who  practised  the  device  of  balancing  a  coin 
on  the  back  of  his  hand  while  in  action.  Among  his 
pupils  were  Cramer,  Field,  Moscheles,  and  Kalk- 
brenner. 

Beethoven  as  a  pianist  was  very  much  what  he 
was  as  a  composer,  viz.,  an  epitome  of  what  had 
gone  before  as  well  as  a  presage  of  what  was  to 
come.  He  studied  composition  in  Vienna,  but  not 
pianoforte  playing,  and  as  a  virtuoso  he  must  have 
been  self-developed  on  the  foundation  of  what  he 
had  been  taught  in  Bonn.  His  studies  began  when 
he  was  not  more  than  five  years  old,  and  he  seems 
to  have  been  pretty  thoroughly  grounded  in  the 
principles  of  C.  P.  E.  Bach  and  to  have  believed  in 
them  always.  His  first  advice  when  he  took  Ries 
271 


The  Players 

as  pupil  was  to  get  Bach's  "Versuch."  He  was 
only  eleven  and  a  half  years  old  when  he  began  to 
play  the  organ  as  a  substitute  for  his  teacher  Neefe 
in  the  electoral  chapel  at  Bonn;  at  twelve  he  was 
cembalist  and  at  thirteen  and  a  half  he  became 
second  organist  by  appointment.  At  eighteen  he 
played  viola  in  the  orchestra  in  the  theatre  and  also 
in  concerts.  His  style,  formed  at  the  clavichord 
and  organ  (perhaps  to  his  detriment  at  the  latter), 
was  smooth  and  quiet,  and  despite  the  fact  that  his 
tone  seems  to  have  been  rude  he  preserved  the 
reposeful  manner  to  a  late  date. 

Czerny  says:  "His  attitude  while  playing  was 
masterly  in  its  quietness,  noble  and  beautiful,  with- 
out the  least  grimace,  though  he  bent  forward  more 
and  more  as  his  deafness  grew  upon  him.  He  at- 
tached great  importance  to  correct  position  of  the 
fingers  in  his  teaching  (according  to  the  school  of 
Emanuel  Bach,  which  he  used  in  teaching  me)." 
In  Thayer's  note-book,  in  which  Beethoven's  biog- 
rapher recorded  the  conversations  which  he  had 
with  the  men  who  had  come  into  personal  contact 
with  the  composer,  I  found  the  following  memo- 
randum under  date  of  May  28,  i860:  "I  called 
again  on  Mahler  and  questioned  him  as  to  the  above, 
and  find  that  I  have  reported  him  correctly.  One 
thing,  he  says,  particularly  attracted  his  attention, 
and  that  was  that  he  played  with  his  hands  so  very 
still.  Wonderful  as  was  his  execution,  there  was  no 
272 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

tossing  up  and  about  of  his  hands,  but  they  seemed 
to  ghde  right  and  left  over  the  keys,  the  fingers 
doing  the  work." 

The  incident  which  Mahler  (in  his  youth  a  painter 
who  had  painted  a  portrait  of  the  master)  had 
described  took  place  in  the  winter  of  1803  or  1804, 
for  Beethoven  was  at  work  on  the  finale  of  the 
"Eroica"  symphony  and  played  some  of  the  varia- 
tions for  his  listeners.  After  that  date  Beethoven 
gradually  abandoned  playing  in  public.  Two  years 
later  Pleyel  describes  his  playing  as  extremely  dar- 
ing and  fearless  of  all  difficulties,  though  they  were 
not  always  cleanly  overcome;  he  "thrashed"  too 
much,  said  Pleyel.  Hummel's  adherents  found 
fault  with  his  playing  because  of  his  excessive  use 
of  the  pedals,  "which  produced  a  confused  noise." 
Czerny  also  refers  to  his  pedalling,  and  in  his 
"School,"  describing  the  manner  in  which  Beeth- 
oven's music  ought  to  be  played,  says:  "Char- 
acteristic and  passionate  power  alternately  with  all 
the  charms  of  cantabile  are  dominant.  The  means 
of  expression  are  often  developed  to  the  extreme, 
particularly  in  respect  of  the  humorous  mood.  The 
piquant,  brilliant  manner  is  seldom  to  be  applied 
here,  but  all  the  oftener  the  general  effect  is  to  be 
attained  partly  through  a  full-voiced  legato,  partly 
by  the  use  of  the  forte-pedal,  etc.  Great  dexterity 
without  pretensions  to  brilliancy.  In  adagios 
rhapsodical  expression  and  emotional  song." 
273 


The  Players 

The  rudeness  of  Beethoven's  playing  harped 
upon  by  musicians  who  heard  him  in  the  later  years 
of  his  life,  such  as  Spohr  and  Moscheles,  finds 
ample  explanation  in  his  temperament,  aggravated 
by  his  deafness.  If  Wegeler  is  to  be  believed,  it 
was  noticeable  before  he  had  heard  any  really  great 
players,  but  when  he  was  twenty  years  old  he  heard 
Johann  Franz  Xaver  Sterkel  (1750-1817),  whose 
playing  was  light  and  pleasing,  almost  effeminate, 
so  much  more  finished  and  refined  than  anything 
that  Beethoven  had  ever  heard  that  he  was  unspeak- 
ably amazed  and  much  persuasion  was  necessary  to 
get  him  to  the  pianoforte  in  turn.  When  finally  he 
did  play,  however,  he  astonished  his  friends  by  do- 
ing so  with  a  perfect  reproduction  of  Sterkel's  style, 
Schindler  says  that  in  his  later  years  Beethoven 
confessed  to  him  that  his  rude  manner  was  due  to 
his  having  played  the  organ  so  much,  which  is  alto- 
gether likely,  considering  the  heavy  action  of  the 
organs  at  that  period,  yet  it  may  have  been  due  also 
to  his  emotional  impulsiveness  and  his  original  bent, 
for  Carl  Ludwig  Junker  wrote  in  1791 :  "His  play- 
ing is  so  different  from  the  usual  manner  of  hand- 
ling the  instrument  that  it  seems  as  if  he  had  tried 
to  open  entirely  new  paths  for  himself." 

In  his  early  years  in  Vienna  he  gave  much 
thought  to  perfecting  his  violin  playing,  and  it  is 
possible  that  that  instrument  usurped  a  large  place 
in  his  affections  to  the  prejudice  of  the  pianoforte. 

274 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

As  he  grew  more  and  more  engrossed  in  composition 
the  ambition  which  had  prompted  him  to  make 
concert  trips  to  Prague,  Nuremberg,  and  Berlin 
left  him.  Thereafter  he  played  in  public  but  sel- 
dom, and  what  we  know  of  his  playing  we  learn 
from  accounts  of  his  performances  in  private. 
These  accounts  all  agree  as  to  the  rhapsodic  elo- 
quence and  dramatic  vitality  of  his  playing,  espe- 
cially when  improvising,  and  his  sinking  of  the 
virtuoso  in  the  character  of  the  musical  poet.  Yet 
he  mastered  some  difficulties  which  were  appalling 
to  his  rivals.  One  of  these  was  a  Bohemian  abbe 
named  Joseph  Gelinek  (1757-1825),  whom  Mozart 
heard  in  Prague  in  1787  and  started  on  a  prosperous 
career  by  recommending  him  to  Count  Kinsky,  who 
appointed  him  his  Hauscaplan;  later  he  became 
musical  director  in  Prague  and  Vienna.  He  was  a 
voluminous  composer  of  variations  of  the  conven- 
tional order,  so  voluminous  and  so  conventional  that 
Carl  Maria  von  Weber  hit  him  off  in  a  distich: 

No  theme  on  earth  escaped  your  genius  airy, 
The  simplest  one  of  all — yourself — you  never  vary. 

Gelinek's  variations  are  lost  forever,  but  the 
story  of  his  first  meeting  with  Beethoven  will 
probably  live  as  long  as  the  fame  of  the  great 
master.  Czerny  tells  the  story:  One  day  Gelinek, 
meeting  Czerny's  father,  remarked  to  him  that  he 
had  been  invited  to  a  soiree  that  evening  to  break 
27s 


The  Players 

a  lance  with  a  new  pianist:  " Den  wollen  wir  zusam- 
menhauen"  ("We'll  cudgel  him  well!")  he  added. 
The  next  day  Czerny  asked  Gelinek  how  the  affair 
had  turned  out.  "Oh,"  replied  the  abbe,  "I'll 
never  forget  yesterday.  The  devil  himself  is  in 
that  young  man;  I  never  heard  such  playing.  He 
improvised  on  a  theme  which  I  gave  him  as  I  never 
heard  even  Mozart  improvise.  Then  he  played 
compositions  of  his  own  which  were  in  the  highest 
degree  grand  and  wonderful.  And  he  plays  diffi- 
culties and  brings  effects  out  of  the  pianoforte  of 
which  we  never  dreamed." 

What  Beethoven's  innovations  were  like  we  can 
guess  in  some  degree  from  a  remark  in  a  letter 
which  he  wrote  to  his  childhood  friend,  Eleonore  von 
Breuning,  in  sending  her  a  set  of  variations  for  piano- 
forte and  violin  on  the  melody  of  "Se  vuol  ballare" 
from  Mozart's  "Nozze  di  Figaro,"  which  he  had 
dedicated  to  her.  In  the  coda  occurred  a  passage 
in  which  a  trill  was  imposed  on  other  voices.  Re- 
ferring to  this  Beethoven  wrote:  "You  will  find 
the  V.  a  little  difficult  to  play,  especially  the  trills 
in  the  coda,  but  don't  let  that  alarm  you.  It  is  so 
contrived  that  you  need  play  only  the  trill,  leaving 
out  the  other  notes,  because  they  are  also  in  the 
violin  part.  I  never  would  have  composed  a  thing 
of  the  kind  had  I  not  often  observed  that  here  and 
there  in  Vienna  there  was  somebody  who,  after  I 
had  improvised  of  an  evening,  noted  down  many 
276 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

of  my  peculiarities  and  made  parade  of  them  next 
day  as  his  own.  Foreseeing  that  some  of  these 
things  would  soon  appear  in  print  I  resolved  to  an- 
ticipate them.  Another  reason  that  I  had  was  to 
embarrass  the  local  pianoforte  masters.  Many  of 
them  are  my  deadly  enemies  and  I  wanted  to  re- 
venge myself  on  them,  knowing  that  once  in  a 
while  somebody  would  ask  them  to  play  the  varia- 
tions and  they  would  make  a  sorry  show  with  them." 
Beethoven's  shafts  were  levelled  at  Gelinek. 

Beethoven's  single  encounter  with  Daniel  Stei- 
belt  (i 765-1823)  has  been  described  in  an  earlier 
chapter  of  these  studies.  Steibelt  seems  to  have 
possessed  a  great  measure  of  digital  skill,  though 
it  is  said  that  a  showy  tremolando  with  both  hands, 
which  caught  the  ears  of  the  groundlings,  had  for 
its  real  purpose  the  hiding  of  a  weakness  of  the  left 
hand.  He  travelled  a  great  deal  and  became  some- 
thing of  a  musical  lion  by  reason  of  the  success  of 
an  opera,  "Romeo  and  Juliet,"  produced  in  1793. 
Not  only  his  own  character  as  a  charlatan  but  also 
the  popular  taste  of  the  time  may  be  read  in  the  tale 
of  his  triumphs  in  Vienna,  whither  he  went  in  1800. 
He  was  accompanied  by  an  English  woman  who 
figured  as  his  wife  and  who  played  the  tambourine 
in  catchpenny  pieces  called  "Bacchanales."  The 
instrument  was  taken  up  by  some  of  the  fashionable 
ladies  of  the  Austrian  capital,  who  paid  the  ad- 
venturess a  gold  ducat  an  hour  for  lessons  and 
277 


The  Players 

bought  a  cartload  of  tambourines  from  her  hus- 
band. 

A  virtuoso  of  a  very  different  order  was  Josef 
Woelffl,  or  Woelfl,  with  whom,  though  he  put  him 
to  his  trumps  both  as  player  and  improviser,  Beeth- 
oven associated  on  terms  of  amity  and  mutual 
esteem.  Woelffl  was  a  native  of  Salzburg  and  a 
pupil  of  Mozart's  father  and  Haydn's  brother. 
The  friendly  rivalry  between  him  and  Beethoven 
separated  the  music-lovers  of  Vienna  into  two 
camps.  Describing  their  meetings  at  which,  in  the 
presence  of  their  aristocratic  adherents,  the  two 
artists  measured  their  powers  against  each  other, 
performing  their  own  compositions  and  improvising 
on  themes  which  they  exchanged,  the  Chevalier  von 
Seyfried  wrote  at  the  time:  "It  would  have  been 
difficult,  perhaps  impossible,  to  award  the  palm  of 
victory  to  either  one  of  the  gladiators  in  respect  of 
technical  skill.  Nature  had  been  particularly  kind 
to  Woelffl  in  bestowing  upon  him  a  hand  which 
enabled  him  to  span  a  tenth  as  easily  as  other 
hands  compass  an  octave,  and  permitted  him  to  play 
passages  of  double  notes  in  these  intervals  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning."  He  then  describes  the  tem- 
pestuous manner  of  Beethoven's  playing  in  his  ex- 
alted moments,  when  he  "tore  along  like  a  wildly 
foaming  cataract,  and  the  conjurer  constrained  his 
instrument  to  an  utterance  so  forceful  that  the 
stoutest  structure  was  scarcely  able  to  withstand 
278 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

it.  .  .  .  Woelffl,  on  the  contrary,  trained  in  the 
school  of  Mozart,  was  always  equable;  never  super- 
ficial, but  always  clear,  and  thus  more  accessible  to 
the  many.  He  used  art  only  as  a  means  to  an  end, 
never  to  exhibit  his  acquirements.  He  always  en- 
listed the  attention  of  his  hearers  and  inevitably  it 
was  made  to  follow  the  progression  of  his  well- 
ordered  ideas.  Whoever  has  heard  Hummel  will 
know  what  is  meant  by  this." 

We  have  another  description  of  Woelffl's  playing 
in  Tomaschek's  autobiography,  in  an  account  of  a 
concert  given  in  1799:  "Then  he  played  Mozart's 
Fantasia  in  F  minor,  published  by  Breitkopf  for 
four  hands,  just  as  it  is  printed,  without  omitting  a 
note,  or,  for  the  sake  of  the  execution,  lessening  the 
value  of  a  single  tone,  as  the  so-called  romanticists 
of  our  time  love  to  do,  thinking  to  equalize  matters 
by  raising  the  damper  pedal  and  producing  an  un- 
exampled confusion  of  tones.  He  is  unique  in  his 
way.  A  pianoforte  player  who  is  six  feet  tall, 
whose  extraordinarily  long  fingers  span  the  interval 
of  a  tenth  without  strain,  and  who,  moreover,  is  so 
emaciated  that  everything  about  him  rattles  like  a 
scarecrow;  who  executes  difiiculties  which  are  im- 
possibilities to  other  pianists  with  the  greatest  ease 
and  a  small  but  neat  touch,  and  without  once  dis- 
turbing the  quiet  posture  of  his  body;  who  often 
plays  whole  passages  in  moderate  tempo  legato  with 
one  and  the  same  finger  (as  in  the  andante  of  the 
279 


r 


The  Players 

Mozart  Fantasia,  the  long  passage  in  sixteenth  notes 
in  the  tenor  voice) — such  a  pianist  certainly  is  with- 
out a  fellow  in  his  art." 

In  1901 — that  is,  only  nine  years  ago — there  still 
lived  in  London  an  English  musician  who  could 
and  did  tell  us  how  some  of  the  great  pianists  of  the 
eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries  played.  The 
memory  of  Charles  Salaman  went  back  to  J.  B. 
Cramer,  who  with  Clementi,  Hummel,  and  Czerny 
formed  the  first  great  group  of  creative  virtuosi 
whose  formative  influence  has  been  felt  down  to 
to-day.  Salaman  wrote  down  his  recollections  of 
the  old  pianists  whom  he  had  heard  and  his  essay 
was  printed  in  "Blackwood's  Edinburgh  Maga- 
zine" for  September,  1901,  only  a  few  weeks  after 
the  death  of  the  author.  The  testimony  is  of  the 
highest  importance,  for  Salaman  had  lived  through 
all  the  phases  of  musical  development  and  made 
experience  of  them  from,  let  us  say,  five  years 
before  the  death  of  Beethoven  to  as  many  after 
the  death  of  Liszt — a  period  of  more  than  two  en- 
tire generations.  His  description  of  Cramer,  for 
instance,  carries  us  back  into  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury and  emphasizes  several  things  which  have  been 
pointed  out  in  these  studies: 

As  a  musician  he  was  of  the  school  of  Mozart,  whose  com- 
positions he  constantly  interpreted  with  true  enthusiasm  and 
perfect  sympathy,  and  it  was  beautiful  to  hear  him  speak  of 
Mozart,  with  whom  he  was  contemporary  for  the  first  twenty 
280 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development . 

years  of  his  life.  In  appearance  Cramer  was  dignified  and 
elegant,  with  something  of  the  look  and  bearing  of  the  Kem- 
bles;  and  well  can  I  recall  the  tranquil  manner  in  which  he 
displayed  his  mastery  of  the  instrument,  so  different  from  the 
exhibitions  of  restless  exaggeration  and  affectation  one  so  often 
sees  at  the  modern  pianoforte  recitals.  It  was  a  pleasure  to 
watch  the  easy  grace  with  which  John  Cramer  moved  his 
hands,  with  bent  fingers  covering  the  keys. 

The  youthful  reader  will  be  tempted,  perhaps,  to 
think  that  a  little  too  much  importance  was  at- 
tached to  tranquillity  of  manner  and  evenness  of 
touch  by  the  early  school  of  pianoforte  playing,  but 
these  qualities,  combined  with  fleetness  of  finger 
and  correct  taste,  sufficed  to  give  utterance  to  most 
of  the  music  of  that  period,  outside  of  the  dramatic 
compositions  of  Beethoven.  Studies  were  then 
exercises  for  the  mastery  of  technique  and  no  one 
thought  of  reading  deeper  purposes  into  them. 
This  fact  finds  illustration  in  Von  Lenz's  interesting 
story  of  his  meeting  with  Cramer.  It  was  in  1842, 
and  the  Russian  pianist  and  writer  had  bidden 
Cramer  to  a  dinner  in  Paris,  and  seeking  the  way 
to  the  venerable  master's  confidence  through  his 
stomach  and  vanity,  had  set  before  him  a  feast  of 
English  viands  (Cramer  had  lived  long  in  England) 
and  banished  all  music  from  the  room  except  the 
complete  works  of  his  guest.  He  told  Cramer  of 
the  continued  popularity  of  his  compositions  in 
Russia  and  played  some  of  them.  Then  he  asked 
281 


The  Players 

the  old  man  to  play  and  he  complied  with  the  first 
three  of  his  studies.  Von  Lenz  was  amazed  and 
disappointed;  everything,  he  says,  was  "dry, 
wooden,  rough,  without  cantilena,  in  the  third  study 
in  D  major,  but  well  rounded  and  magisterial." 
Von  Lenz  tried  to  conceal  his  disappointment,  but 
confesses  that  he  was  thoroughly  disillusioned.  He 
asked  if  an  absolute  legato  was  not  indicated  in  the 
third  study,  in  which  Cramer  had  simply  put  the 
groups  in  the  upper  voice  to  the  sword  and  neg- 
lected even  to  tie  the  bass  progressions. 

"We  were  not  so  anxious,"  rephed  Cramer;  "we 
did  not  put  so  much  into  the  music.  These  are 
exercises.  I  haven't  your  accents  and  intentions. 
Clementi  played  his  '  Gradus  ad  Parnassum '  in  the 
same  way.  We  knew  no  better,  and  no  one  sang 
more  beautifully  than  Field,  who  was  a  pupil  of 
Clementi.  My  model  was  Mozart.  Nobody  com- 
posed more  beautifully  than  he!  Now  I  am  for- 
gotten and  a  poor  elementary  teacher  in  a  suburb 
of  Paris,  where  they  play  the  etudes  of  Bertini,  which 
I  have  got  to  teach.  You  can  hear  them  if  you  want 
to — eight  pianos  at  once!" 

Yet  in  his  day  Beethoven  valued  Cramer  so  highly 
that  he  did  not  think  any  other  artist  worthy  of 
being  compared  with  him. 

As  a  boy  Hummel  lived  two  years  in  Mozart's 
household  and  studied  with  him;  afterward  Haydn, 
Salieri,  Clementi,  and  Albrechtsberger  had  a  hand 
282 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

in  his  musical  education.  Comparing  his  playing 
with  that  of  Beethoven,  Czerny  wrote:  "If  Beeth- 
oven's playing  was  marked  by  immense  power,  in- 
dividual character,  and  unheard-of  bravura  and  dex- 
terity, Hummel's,  on  the  contrary,  was  a  model  of 
purity,  clarity,  and  distinctness,  of  insinuating  ele- 
gance and  delicacy."  Salaman  heard  Hummel  in 
1830,  after  he  had  been  absent  from  London  forty 
years;  yet  he  says  of  his  playing: 

With  ease  and  tranquil,  concentrated  power,  with  undevi- 
ating  accuracy,  richness  of  tone  and  delicacy  of  touch,  he 
executed  passages  in  single  and  double  notes  and  in  octaves 
of  enormous  technical  difticulty.  Above  all,  his  playing  pos- 
sessed the  indefinable  quality  of  charm. 

"Don't  talk  to  me  about  these  passage-players," 
said  Beethoven,  angrily,  when  somebody  mentioned 
the  name  of  Moscheles.  The  remark,  which  sounds 
ungracious,  and  even  unjust,  in  view  of  the  position 
which  Moscheles  came  to  occupy  later  in  the  mu- 
sical world,  receives  an  illuminating  gloss  from 
Salaman's  estimate;  he  heard  Moscheles  in  1826: 

Moscheles  had  taken  Europe  by  storm  and  initiated  his 
great  reputation  by  his  wonderful  performance  of  the  ex- 
traordinary bravura  variations  he  had  written  on  the  French 
popular  piece,  "The  Fall  of  Paris."  ...  So  completely  did 
this  style  captivate  the  popular  taste  that  he  soon  had  a  follow- 
ing, and  became  recognized  as  the  founder  of  a  school  which 
continued  in  fashion  for  some  years.  Later  on,  however, 
283 


The  Players 

Moscheles  emancipated  himself  from  the  bravura  style,  which 
played  itself  out,  and  he  developed  into  a  classical  pianist 
and  composer.  I  heard  him  often  in  the  20's,  the  30's,  and 
40's  at  the  Philharmonic,  his  own  and  other  concerts;  and  more 
than  once  I  had  the  honor  of  appearing  on  the  same  programme 
with  him.  I  always  admired  his  masterly  command  of  all  the 
resources  of  his  instrument  and  the  genuine  art  of  his  playing; 
but  I  confess  that  he  seldom  quite  charmed  me,  never  deeply 
moved  me.  ...  I  never  remember  feeling  in  listening  to  the 
accomplished  performances  of  Moscheles  that  a  temperament 
was  speaking  to  mine  through  the  medium  of  the  pianoforte, 
as  I  felt  with  Mendelssohn,  with  Liszt,  with  Chopin,  with 
Thalberg,  and  later  with  Rubinstein. 

Of  Field,  Mendelssohn,  Chopin,  and  Henselt  it 
can  be  said  that  their  achievements  as  composers  so 
far  overshadow  their  fame  as  performers  that  these 
studies  would  be  reasonably  complete  so  far  as  they 
are  concerned  with  the  attention  which  they  have 
received  in  an  earlier  chapter;  yet  they  were  all 
remarkable  performers;  all  of  them,  indeed,  might 
have  become  famous  as  virtuosi  had  they  not  been 
swayed  by  their  loftier  creative  impulse.  Field  was 
a  forerunner  of  Chopin  in  the  style  of  his  playing, 
as  he  was  in  the  creation  of  the  nocturne.  "  A  really 
great  player,"  says  Salaman  of  him,  "his  style,  like 
his  compositions,  romantic  and  poetic,  as  if  inter- 
preting some  beautiful  dream,  while  in  the  singing 
quality  of  his  touch,  the  infinite  grace  and  delicacy 
of  his  execution,  his  emotional  expression,  he  was 
unrivalled  in  his  day." 

284 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

Schumann's  ambition  to  become  a  virtuoso  was 
nipped  in  the  bud  by  an  accident  resulting  from  an 
effort  to  gain  dexterity,  flexibility,  and  strength  of 
finger  by  mechanical  means,  and  we  can  only 
guess  at  what  he  might  have  become  as  an  inter- 
preter of  the  music  of  other  masters  from  his  critical 
writings.  It  is,  moreover,  doubtful  if  he  would  ever 
have  become  so  convincing  a  performer  of  his  own 
music  as  his  wife,  Clara  Wieck  (1819-1896);  for  I 
was  told  many  years  ago  by  an  excellent  musician 
who  was  a  student  in  Leipsic  in  the  Schumann 
period  that  when  he  conducted  he  depended  on  his 
wife  to  indicate  the  tempo  for  each  number,  which 
she  did  by  protruding  her  foot  from  beneath  her 
skirts  and  beating  time  on  the  floor.  Mr.  Franklin 
Taylor,  an  excellent  authority,  considers  that  Mme. 
Schumann  stood  "indubitably  in  the  first  rank  as 
a  pianist,  perhaps  higher  than  any  of  her  contem- 
poraries, if  not  as  regards  the  possession  of  natural 
or  acquired  gifts  yet  in  the  use  she  made  of  them." 

While  the  majority  of  virtuosi  down  to  Liszt,  and 
even  he  during  his  period  of  greatest  brilliancy,  dis- 
played their  powers  almost  exclusively  in  their  own 
compositions,  Mendelssohn  as  a  performer  was  also 
an  admirable  exponent  of  the  creations  of  his  great 
predecessors.  Speaking  of  his  performance  of  Beeth- 
oven's G  major  concerto,  Salaman  says:  "A  more 
reverential,  sympathetic,  and  conservative  reading 
of  the  old  master's  text  I  have  never  heard,  while  at 
285 


The  Players 

the  same  time  the  interpretation  was  unmistakably 
individual — Mendelssohn's  and  no  possible  other's! 
His  touch  was  exquisitely  delicate,  and  the  fairy 
fancies  of  his  'Midsummer  Night's  Dream'  music 
seemed  ever  to  haunt  him  in  his  playing,  lending  it 
a  magic  charm.  .  .  .  His  fugue  playing  was  strictly 
classical  and  based  on  Bach;  his  handling  of  octave 
passages  was  magnificent,  and,  as  I  have  said,  his 
power  of  improvisation  boundless."  Von  Lenz  calls 
Henselt  "the  most  unique  of  all  keyboard  phe- 
nomena." "Liszt,"  he  says,  "must  be  accepted 
cosmically,  universally,  because  of  his  command  of 
all  the  resources  of  the  instrument  and,  therefore, 
of  all  styles.  .  .  .  Chopin  was  too  original  in  pro- 
duction to  permit  his  reproduction  to  express  his 
whole  individuality,  the  more  because  of  the  decay 
of  physical  command  over  his  resources.  Midway 
between  Liszt  and  Chopin,  and  in  a  degree  as  a  bond 
between  their  contrasts,  stands  Henselt,  a  primitive 
Teutonic  phenomenon,  a  Germania  at  the  piano- 
forte." 

If  Chopin  had  longings  and  predilections  for  a 
virtuoso's  career,  he  left  them  behind  him  with  his 
youth.  After  he  had  attained  fame  in  Paris  he 
played  only  for  small  gatherings  of  sympathetic 
souls.  "  I  am  not  fitted  for  public  playing,"  he  said; 
"  the  public  frightens  me,  its  breath  chokes  me.  I 
am  paralyzed  by  its  inquisitive  gaze  and  affrighted 
at  these  strange  faces."     So  Henselt  lived  thirty-two 

286 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

years  in  St.  Petersburg,  where  he  was  greatly  es- 
teemed, without  appearing  once  in  pubhc;  and 
when  he  went  to  Germany  he  played  only  before  a 
chosen  few.  Yet  Lenz,  whose  admiration  for  Liszt 
was  boundless,  held  Henselt  to  be  the  only  peer  of 
that  pianistic  macrocosm.  Henselt  exercised  his 
fingers  indefatigably  upon  a  dumb  keyboard  and 
practised  Bach's  fugues  on  a  muted  pianoforte, 
reading  the  Bible  the  while.  "When  Bach  and 
the  Bible  are  finished  he  begins  again  at  the  begin- 
ning," says  his  not  always  veracious  laudator. 

To  return  for  a  moment  to  Chopin.  As  a  player 
he  might  be  described  as  a  descendant  of  de- 
menti's in  the  second  generation:  Clementi  begat 
Field,  Field  begat  Chopin.  When  he  went  to  Paris 
he  contemplated  taking  lessons  from  Kalkbrenner, 
a  famous  bravura  player  and  teacher,  who  after 
hearing  him  play  asked  him  if  he  had  been  Field's 
pupil.  An  instructive  characterization  of  Chopin's 
playing  is  found  in  Moscheles's  diary: 


His  ad  libitum  playing,  which  with  the  interpreters  of  his 
music  degenerates  into  disregard  of  time,  is  with  him  only  the 
most  charming  originality  of  execution;  the  amateurish  and 
harsh  modulations  which  strike  me  so  disagreeably  when  I 
am  reading  his  compositions  no  longer  shock  me,  because  his 
delicate  fingers  glide  lightly  over  them  in  a  fairylike  way;  his 
piano  is  so  soft  that  he  does  not  need  any  strong  forte  to  produce 
contrasts;  it  is  for  this  reason  that  one  does  not  miss  the  or- 
chestral effects  which  the  German  school  demands  from  a 
287 


The  Players 


pianoforte  player,  but  allows  one's  self  to  be  carried  away  as 
by  a  singer  who,  little  concerned  about  the  accompaniment, 
entirely  follows  his  feelings. 


Chopin  was  a  master  of  cantahile.  Schumann 
tells  of  hearing  him  "sing"  his  E-flat  nocturne;  Von 
Lenz  describes  his  playing  of  Beethoven's  sonata 
in  A-flat,  Op.  26:  "He  played  it  beautifully,  but 
not  so  beautifully  as  his  own  works,  not  so  as  to 
take  hold  of  you,  not  en  relief,  not  like  a  romance 
with  a  climacteric  development  from  variation  to 
variation.  He  murmured  mezza  voce,  but  incom- 
parably in  the  cantilena,  infinitely  perfect  in  the 
connection  of  phrases,  ideally,  beautifully,  but 
effeminately." 

Over  against  three  great  players  who  were  piano- 
forte virtuosi  and  nothing  more,  the  " Philistines"  of 
Schumann's  wrath — Friedrich  Kalkbrenner  (1784?- 
1849),  Henri  Herz,  to  give  him  his  Gallicized  name 
(1806-1888),  and  Alexander  Dreyschock  (1818-1869) 
— I  place  the  triumvirate  of  great  virtuosi  who  were 
also  great  musicians,  Liszt,  Thalberg,  and  Tausig. 
If  any  man  shall  undertake  to  say  who  of  these  three 
was  the  greatest  pianoforte  performer  he  shall  be 
a  rock  of  offence  to  the  special  admirers  of  the  two 
others.  Only  a  portion  of  the  musical  world,  and 
that  a  small  one,  sat  under  the  spell  of  the  youngest 
of  them,  and  only  for  a  short  space,  for  Tausig's 
scintillant  career  spanned  only  a  dozen  years,  while 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

that  of  his  elders  compassed  each  two  generations. 
And  Liszt  was  Tausig's  master,  as  he  was  the  mas- 
ter, in  practice  or  in  precept,  or  in  both,  of  nearly 
all  the  pianists  of  wide  note  during  the  last  half  cen- 
tury. There  were  three  distinct  periods  in  Liszt's 
career:  the  first  when  he  travelled  through  Europe 
as  a  prodigy,  with  the  kiss  of  Beethoven  on  his  brow, 
and  won  all  hearts  as  much  by  his  charming  natural- 
ness of  conduct  as  by  his  phenomenal  skill  upon  the 
keyboard;  the  second  when,  the  ripened  virtuoso,  he 
carried  everything  before  him,  bewildering  the 
musicians  no  less  than  the  mere  music-lovers,  widen- 
ing the  boundaries  of  the  technicians,  giving  a  new 
voice  to  the  pianoforte,  breaking  the  seven  seals 
of  the  Book  of  Revelation  of  Beethoven  the  Divine, 
stimulating  the  manufacturers  to  augment  the  power 
and  the  brilliancy  of  the  instrument  so  that  it  might 
withstand  the  assaults  of  men  with 

thews  of  Anakim 
And  pulses  of  a  Titan's  heart; 

and  the  last  when,  "far  from  the  madding  crowd," 
he  gave  himself  up  to  the  unselfish  labors  of  a 
doubly  creative  musician,  composing  music  and 
fashioning  artists  out  of  the  elect  who  flocked  to 
him  for  instruction  from  all  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
All  critical  discourse  touching  him  runs  out  into 
metaphorical  rhapsody.  "Liszt  is  the  latent  his- 
tory of  the  keyboard  instruments  and  himself  the 


The  Players 

crown  of  the  work!"  cries  Von  Lenz;  "Liszt  is  a 
phenomenon  of  universal  musical  virtuosity  such  as 
had  never  before  been  known,  not  simply  a  pianistic 
miracle,"  he  says  again,  and  still  again  and  again: 
"The  pianist  Liszt  is  an  apparition  not  to  be  com- 
pressed within  the  bounds  of  the  house  drawn  by 
schools  and  professors";  ** Liszt  is  the  past,  the 
present,  and  the  future  of  the  pianoforte.  .  .  .  He 
is  the  spirit  of  the  matter,  he  absorbs  the  concep- 
tion"; "When  Liszt  thunders,  lightens,  and  mur- 
murs the  great  B-flat  Sonata  for  Hammerklavier  by 
Beethoven,  this  Solomon's  Song  of  the  keyboard, 
there  is  an  end  of  all  things  pianistic;  Liszt  is  mak- 
ing capital  for  humanity  out  of  the  ideas  of  the 
greatest  thinker  in  the  realm  of  music."  And  so 
Von  Lenz  goes  on  and  others  follow  him.  "Liszt 
is  the  father  of  modern  pianoforte  virtuosity,"  says 
Prosniz  somewhat  more  instructively;  "he  de- 
veloped the  capacity  of  the  instrument  to  the  ut- 
most; he  commanded  it  to  sing,  to  whisper,  to 
thunder.  From  the  human  voice  as  well  as  the 
orchestra  he  borrowed  effects.  Daringly,  trium- 
phantly his  technique  overcame  all  difficulties — a 
technique  which  proclaimed  the  unquaHfied  do- 
minion of  the  mind  over  the  human  hand." 

Liszt's  great  period  as  a  virtuoso  was  from  1839 
to  1847,  ^^d  during  this  period  he  had  only  one 
rival,  though  a  formidable  one.  This  was  Sigis- 
mund  Thalberg    (181 2-187 1),   ^  natural   son  of 

290 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

Prince  Dietrichstein  and  the  Baroness  Wetzlar.  He 
studied  in  Paris  with  Pixis  and  Kalkbrenner,  and 
at  the  outset  of  his  career  divided  with  Liszt  the 
cognoscenti  of  the  French  capital  into  parties  as 
Beethoven  and  Woelflfl  had  divided  the  Viennese  a 
generation  before.  In  the  pen  battle  which  ensued 
Fetis  championed  him  and  Berhoz,  his  rival.  He 
travelled  more  extensively  and  longer  than  Liszt, 
his  journeyings,  as  Herz's  had  done,  carrying  him 
to  America,  where  for  a  short  time  in  1857  he  was 
engaged  with  Ullmann  in  the  management  of  Italian 
opera  at  the  Academy  of  Music  in  New  York.  He 
was  a  true  aristocrat  and  cultured  gentleman  in  his 
bearing  in  society  as  well  as  at  the  pianoforte. 
We  have  the  estimates  of  two  fellow  pianists  to  help 
us  to  form  an  opinion  of  his  playing. 
Sir  Charles  Halle: 

Totally  unlike  in  style  to  either  Chopin  or  Liszt,  he  was 
admirable  and  unimpeachable  in  his  own  way.  His  perform- 
ances were  wonderfully  finished  and  accurate,  giving  the  im- 
pression that  a  wrong  note  was  an  impossibility.  His  tone 
was  round  and  beautiful,  the  clearness  of  his  passage-playing 
crystal-like,  and  he  had  brought  to  the  utmost  perfection  the 
method  identified  with  his  name,  of  making  a  melody  stand 
out  distinctly  through  a  maze  of  brilliant  passages.  He  did 
not  appeal  to  the  emotions  except  those  of  wonder,  for  his 
playing  was  statuesque,  cold,  but  beautiful  and  so  masterly 
that  it  was  said  of  him,  with  reason,  he  would  play  with  the 
same  care  and  finish  if  roused  out  of  the  deepest  sleep  in  the 
middle  of  the  night.  He  created  a  great  sensation  in  Paris 
291 


The  Players 


and  became  the  idol  of  the  public,  principally,  perhaps,  be- 
cause it  was  felt  that  he  could  be  imitated,  which  with  Chopin 
and  Liszt  was  out  of  the  question. 

Charles  Salaman: 

Perhaps  brilliancy  and  elegance  were  his  chief  distinguish- 
ing qualities,  but,  of  course,  he  had  much  more  than  these. 
He  had  deep  feeling.  .  .  .  His  playing  quite  enchanted  me; 
his  highly  cultivated  touch  expressed  the  richest  vocal  tone, 
while  his  powers  of  execution  were  marvellous.  Nothing 
seemed  difficult  to  him;  like  Liszt,  he  could  play  the  appar- 
ently impossible,  but  unlike  Liszt,  he  never  indulged  in  any 
affectation  or  extravagance  of  manner  in  achieving  his  mechan- 
ical triumphs  on  the  keyboard.  His  strength  and  flexibility 
of  wrist  and  finger  were  amazing,  but  he  always  tempered 
strength  with  delicacy.  His  loudest  jortissimos  were  never 
noisy.  His  own  compositions,  which  he  chiefly  played  in 
public,  enabled  him  best  to  display  his  astonishing  virtuosity, 
but  to  be  assured  that  Thalberg  was  a  really  great  player  was 
to  hear  him  interpret  Beethoven,  which  he  did  finely,  classi- 
cally, and  without  any  attempt  to  embellish  the  work  of  the 
master. 

While  Chopin  could  not  play  in  public  and 
Henselt  would  not  because  of  too  great  conscien- 
tiousness, Tausig,  as  he  himself  said,  was  at  his 
best  only  on  the  concert  platform.  Cramer  said 
of  Dreyschock  that  he  had  two  right  hands;  Von 
Lenz  remarked  of  Tausig  that  his  left  hand  was  a 
second  right.  Peter  Cornelius  told  of  the  amaze- 
ment which  Tausig  caused  as  a  boy  of  fourteen  when 
he  played  for  Liszt  the  first  time:  "Avery  devil 
292 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

of  a  fellow;  he  dashed  into  Chopin's  A-flat  Polo- 
naise and  knocked  us  clean  over  with  the  octaves." 
Von  Lenz  relates  how  he  heard  Tausig  play  the 
ostinato  octave  figure  in  the  trio  of  the  polonaise 
in  a  frenetic  tempo  from  a  murmuring  pianissimo 
to  a  thunderous/ofte,  so  that  his  listener  cried  out  in 
amazement. 

"It's  a  specialty  of  mine,"  said  Tausig.  "You  see  my  hand 
is  small  and  yet  I  ball  it  together.  My  left  hand  has  a  natural 
descent  from  the  thumb  to  the  little  finger.  I  fall  naturally 
upon  the  four  notes  (E,  D-sharp,  C-sharp,  B);  it's  a  freak  of 
nature.  (He  smiled.)  I  can  do  it  as  long  as  you  please;  it 
doesn't  weary  me.  It  is  as  if  written  for  me.  Now,  you  play 
the  four  notes  with  both  hands;  you'll  not  get  the  power  into 
them  that  I  do."  I  tried  it.  "You  see,  you  see!  Very  good, 
but  not  so  loud  as  mine,  and  you  are  already  tired  after  a 
few  measures,  and  so  are  the  octaves." 

It  is  not  for  want  of  appreciation,  respect,  and 
admiration  for  many  of  the  pianists  of  to-day  that 
I  choose  to  end  my  survey  of  pianoforte  players 
with  Rubinstein  and  Hans  von  Biilow  (1830-1894). 
Of  them  it  is  possible  to  take  a  view  which  shall 
have  a  proper  historical  perspective.  A  discussion 
of  the  living,  however,  would  of  necessity  have  in 
it  much  of  personal  equation.  Unlike  the  virtuosi 
of  the  pre-Lisztian  period,  the  pianists  of  the  present 
day  present  themselves  pre-eminently  as  interpret- 
ers of  the  music  of  the  master  composers  and  not 
of  their  own;  and  in  this  fact  there  lies  a  merit  the 
293 


The  Players 

only  qualification  of  which  arises  from  the  fact  that 
so  few  of  them  are  in  a  high  sense  creative  artists. 
In  it,  also,  lies  a  tribute  to  the  taste  of  the  public 
of  to-day;  and  every  player  who  aims  to  maintain 
a  high  standard  of  appreciation  deserves  well  in 
the  thoughts  of  the  musically  cultured.  It  cannot 
mar  the  reputation  of  any  of  the  living,  however,  to 
say  that  Rubinstein  and  Dr.  von  Biilow  loom  above 
them  all  as  recreative  artists. 

Of  the  players  to  whom  the  older  generation  of 
to-day  has  listened,  Rubinstein  was  the  most  elo- 
quent and  moving.  He  was  in  the  highest  degree 
subjective  and  emotional,  his  manner  leonine  and 
compelling.  His  prodigious  technical  skill  seemed 
to  give  him  as  little  concern  as  it  did  his  listeners, 
who  were  as  intent  on  taking  in  the  full  of  his  out- 
pouring as  he  was  in  giving  it.  The  technical  side 
of  Dr.  von  Billow's  playing  was  forced  into  greater 
prominence  because  of  his  pronounced  objectivity; 
yet  there  was  a  wonderful  delight  in  his  playing  for 
all  who  found  intellectual  and  aesthetic  pleasure  in 
clear,  convincing,  symmetrical,  and  logical  presen- 
tations of  the  composers'  thoughts.  Dr.  Bie  has 
hit  him  off  in  his  chief  capacity  capitally: 

"When  he  gave  public  recitals  he  did  not,  like 
Rubinstein,  crowd  a  history  of  the  piano  into  a  few 
evenings.  He  took  by  preference  a  single  author, 
like  Beethoven,  and  played  only  the  last  five  sonatas, 
or  he  unfolded  the  whole  of  Beethoven  in  four  even- 

294 


Virtuosi  and  Their  Development 

ings.  He  would  have  preferred  to  play  every  piece 
twice.  Great  draftsman  as  he  was,  he  hated  all 
half-lights  and  colorations;  he  pointed  his  pencil 
very  finely,  and  his  paper  was  very  white." 


295 


INDEX 


academie  royale  des 
Sciences,  30. 

^schylus,  82. 

Albrechtsberger,  191,  282. 

Aldrich,  Richard,  on  Schu- 
mann, 202. 

Alkan  aine,  254. 

Alia  zoppa,  242. 

Allemand  (almain,  allemande, 
and  alman),  83,  85. 

Allen,  William,  introduces  tu- 
bular braces,  39. 

"All  in  a  Garden  Green,"  76. 

American  music  and  compo- 
sers, 256,  257. 

Ammerbach,  "Orgel  oder  In- 
strument Tabulatur,"  264, 
265. 

"  Appassionata  "  Sonata,  163, 
165. 

Apollo,  Greek  archer  god  and 
god  of  music,  7,  12. 

ApoUodorus,  11. 

Arbeau,  "  Orchesographie,"  88. 

"A-re,"  64. 

Arensky,  252. 

Aristides  Quintilian,  15. 

Aristotle,  80,  82. 

Aristoxenus,  82. 

Arne,  82. 

Assyrian  dulcimer,  12. 


Babcock,  Alpheus,  his  patent 
iron  frame,  39,  44. 

Bach,  C.  P.  E.,  126;  his  clave- 
cin pieces,  127,  128;  "Ver- 
such,  etc.,"  129,  267,  272; 
"La  Journaliere,"  130;  "La 
Complaisante,"  130;  "La 
Capriceuse,"  130,  131;  his 
preference  for  the  clavichord, 
133;  use  of  harpsichord,  133, 
264;    his  fingering,  267,  271. 

Bach,  J.  C,  137. 

Bach,  Johann  Sebastian,  21, 
28,  100  et  seq.,  107;  com- 
pared with  Handel,  no  et 
seq.;  ancestors,  112;  posts 
at  Miihlhausen,  Weimar, 
Cothen  and  Leipsic,  112, 
113;  an  instrumental  mu- 
sician, 114;  "The  Well- 
Tempered  Clavichord,"  114, 
119;  "Chromatic  Fantasia 
and  Fugue,"  117;  Preludes 
and  fugues,  120;  "Gold- 
berg" variations,  173;  "Ca- 
priccio  on  the  Departure  of 
a  Brother,"  182;  "Musi- 
kalisches  Opfer,"  132;  other 
compositions,  120;  at  court 
of  Frederick  the  Great,  132; 
preference     for     clavichord, 


297 


Index 


133;  influence  of  the  North 
German  School,  117;  equal 
temperament,  119;  a  con- 
tinuator,  122;  215,  216,  239, 
254;  characterized,  197,  263; 
his  clavier  playing,  266. 

Bach,  W.  F.,  128. 

Backer-Grondahl,  Agathe,  240. 

Bacon,  "Sylva  Sylvarum,"  68. 

Balakirew,  248,  250;  "Isla- 
mey,"  251. 

Balancement,  178. 

Ballets,  allegorical,  89. 

Bargiel,  226. 

"Base,"  64. 

Bebung,  178. 

Beethoven,  a  continuator,  122; 
his  significance,  135;  un- 
authorized titles,  140;  his 
comment  on  Prince  Louis 
Ferdinand,  141;  his  piano- 
forte music,  146  et  seq.  ;  as 
writer  of  "occasionals,"  147; 
the  complete  edition  of  his 
works,  149;  attitude  toward 
form,  149,  154;  influence  on 
the  sonata,  151;  his  democ- 
racy, 153;  a  poet  of  human- 
ity, 154;  innovations  in  so- 
nata form,  155;  his  scherzos, 
157;  finales,  158;  last  five 
sonatas,  158;  motival  devel- 
opment, 160;  descriptive 
music,  161;  projected  piano- 
forte method,  162,  173;  con- 
tents of  his  sonatas,  162;  his 
polyphony,  168;  his  improv- 
isations, 169,  171;  his  varia- 


tions, 168-173;  meeting  with 
Steibelt,  169;  his  piano- 
fortes and  their  mechanism, 
173)  179;  clavichord  and 
harpsichord,  173;  compo- 
sitions for  harpsichord,  176; 
his  music  "  claviermassig," 
176-178;  a  classic  and  a 
romantic,  180;  his  pupil 
Czerny,  189;  and  Ries,  191; 
characterized,  197;  use  of 
folksong  idioms,  235;  his 
pianoforte  playing,  271-279; 
studies  C.  P.  E.  Bach,  271; 
style  formed  on  clavichord 
and  organ,  272;  Czerny 's 
account  of  his  playing,  272, 
283;  Mahler's  account,  272; 
Pleyel's  account,  273;  pedal- 
ling, 273;  rudeness,  274; 
Sterkel's  influence,  274; 
Schindler's  statement,  274; 
Junker's  account,  274;  pub- 
lic performances,  275;  en- 
counter with  Gelinek,  276; 
with  Steibelt,  277;  associa- 
tion with  Woelffl,  278;  von 
Seyfried's  account,  278;  his 
high  opinion  of  Cramer,  282; 
interpreted  by  Thalberg,  292. 
His  compositions:  Sonatas 
for  pianoforte,  Op.  2,  157; 
Op.  7,  171;  Op.  10,  158; 
Op.  13,  162;  Op.  14,  158; 
Op.  26,  171,  178,  288;  Op. 
27,  No.  2  ("Moonlight"), 
161,  162,  165,  215,  216; 
Op.   28,   163;    Op.  31,   158, 


298 


Index 


i6i,  162;  Op.  53  ( "  Wakl- 
stein"),  160,  174,  175,  177; 
Op-  57  ("Appassionata"), 
153,  162,  165;  Op.  loi,  157; 
Op.  106,  157,  290;  Op.  109, 
158,  171;  Op.  no,  157,  161, 
177;  Op.  Ill,  158,  159,  171. 
Variations:  "Ich  bin  der 
Schneider  Kakadu,"  148;  on 
Diabelli's  waltz,  168,  172, 
204;  in  E-flat,  Op.  35,  171; 
on  "Se  vuol  ballare,"  276; 
Concerto  in  G,  175,  285; 
Symphonies:  "Eroica,"  171, 
272;  C  minor,  222;  "Pastor- 
al," 162,  242;  in  D  minor 
("Choral"),  172,  235;  "An- 
dante favori, "  160;  Trio  Op. 
II,  169;  Bagatelles,  201; 
"Missa  solemnis,"  147; 
"Geschopfe  des  Prome- 
theus," 171;  "Fidelio,"  189; 
"Ruins  of  Athens,"  235. 
Miscellaneous  references: 
36,  186,  19s,  201,  203,  215, 
227,  231,  239,  245,  270,  280, 
282,  291. 

Beethovenhaus  Verein  in  Bonn, 
174. 

Bellini,  211. 

Bembo,  Pietro,  264. 

Benda,    family    of    musicians, 

243- 
Bendl,  243. 
Benedict,  Julius,  193. 
Bennett,     William     Sterndale, 

225. 
Berger,  Ludwig,  188,  271. 


Berggreen,  collection  of  folk- 
songs, 236. 

Berlioz,  213,  249. 

Bernard,  the  German,  58. 

Bertini,  282. 

Bie,  Dr.  Oscar,  75,  173;  on 
Mendelssohn,  212;  on  Cho- 
pin, 216;  on  Weber,  193;  on 
Schubert,  201;  on  von  Bti- 
low,  294. 

Blaikley,  D.  J.,  264,  265. 

Blitheman,   William,    71. 

Blow,  Dr.  John,  81. 

"Blue  Danube,"  waltzes,  60. 

Blumenfeld,  252. 

"Boabdil,"  242. 

Bohm,  Theobald,  44. 

Bosendorfer,  42. 

Bohemian  musicians  and  com- 
posers, 185,  243,  244. 

Bologna,  Jacopo,  58. 

"Bonny  Sweet  Robin,"  75. 

Borodin,  248,  250. 

Bossi,  255. 

Bouquoy,  Count,  187. 

Bourree,  89,  93. 

Bow,  primitive  musical  instru- 
ment, 7  et  seq. 

Brade,  William,  77. 

Brahms,  Johannes,  edits  Cou- 
perin's  works,  92;  variations, 
168,  227;  226,  227;  com- 
positions for  pianoforte,  228; 
"  Liebeslieder,"  228,  230. 

Branle  (Shakespeare's  brawl), 
93.  126. 

Breuning,  Eleonore  von,  276. 

British  Museum,  12. 


299 


Index 


Broadwood,  47,  174. 

"Broken  music,"  64. 

Brown,  Dr.  John,  192. 

Brown,  Mrs.  John  Crosby,  31. 

Bull,  Dr.  John,  71,  72;  his 
career,  79,  80;  "King's 
Hunting  Jigg,"  80,  81,  102. 

BuUen,  Anne,  her  taste  in  mu- 
sic, 65,  67. 

"Burdens,"  64. 

Burney,  Dr.  Charles,  "Present 
State,  etc.,"  128,  133,  185; 
on  clavichord,  268,  270. 

Burton,  83. 

Buus,  58. 

Buxtehude,  107,  182. 

Byrd,  71;  his  "Battle,"  74,  142; 
"The  Carman's  Whistle," 
75;  "Sellinger's  Round," 
76,  81. 

Byrne,  Albert,  72. 

Byron,  on  the  waltz,  221. 

Caffi,  S.,  264. 

Cantata,  125. 

Cantus  firmus,  59. 

Canzona  per  sonar,  60. 

"Carman's  Whistle,"  75. 

Cassiodorus,  14. 

Catherine  of  Portugal,  103. 

Censorinus,  8. 

Cesti,  Antonio,  96. 

Chaconne,  61,  85. 

Chadwick,  Geo.  W.,  256. 

Chambonnieres,  Jacques  Cham- 
pion de,  90,  91. 

Charles  II,  King  of  England, 
103,  104. 


Charles  IX,  King  of  France, 
his  favorite  dance-tune, 
84. 

Chickering,  Jonas,  invents  iron 
frame  for  grand  pf.,  39. 

Chinese  tune,  used  by  Weber, 

235; 
Chopin,  labels  on  his  music, 
140;  and  national  music, 
213;  his  romanticism,  213; 
Huneker  on,  214,  215,  217; 
his  taste,  215;  and  classicism, 
215;  Schumann  on,  215; 
Mendelssohn  on,  215;  Run- 
ciman  on,  216;  his  morbid- 
ness, 215,  216;  Niecks  on, 
216;  Pudor  on,  216;  Bie 
on,  216;  Rubinstein  on,  217; 
Tappert  on,  217;  his  piano- 
forte compositions,  218-223; 
his  playing,  284,  286,  287, 
288,  292;  his  Polish  music, 
240-242. 

Compositions:  Bolero, 
219;  Concertos,  218,  219; 
Fantasia  on  Polish  airs,  218; 
Krakowiak,  218;  Mazur- 
kas, 219,  223,  241;  £tudes, 
219,  220;  Preludes,  219, 
220;  Nocturnes,  192,  211, 
219,  220;  Waltzes,  219,  221; 
Polonaises,  219,  223,  242, 
293;  Rondos,  219;  Ballades, 
219,  220;  Scherzos,  219, 
221,  222;  Sonatas,  219,  222; 
Impromptus,  219;  Ecos- 
saises,  219;  Variations,  219; 
Fantasias,   219;    Tarantelle, 


300 


Ind 


ex 


219;  Berceuse,  219;  Bar- 
carolle, 219;  "Concert  Alle- 
gro," 219;  "Marche  fune- 
bre,"  219. 

References,  189,  194,  200, 
202,  203. 

Chrysander,  92,  116. 

Cithern,  68. 

Claudius  Ptolemy,  15. 

Classicism,  defined,  122;  123, 
180  et  seq. 

Clavicembalo,  19. 

Clavichord,  17,  18;  expressive 
capacity  of,  21;  instrument 
owned  by  Philip  II,  39;  over- 
strung, 43,  44;  touch  of,  268; 
as  preparatory  instrument, 
268. 

Clavicymbal,  18. 

Clavicytherium,  ig. 

Clementi,  his  sonatas,  127,  136, 
138;  "Gradus  ad  Parnas- 
sum,"  138;  Sonata  in  B-flat, 
139;  competes  with  Mozart, 
139;  "Didone  abbandona- 
ta,"  140,  143,  144,  173,  174, 
185,  188,  193;  and  Mozart, 
269. 

Cobb,  J.,  72. 

"Cobbler's  Jig,"  77. 

Coleridge,  definition  of  beauty, 
248. 

"Concords,"  64. 

Conti,  Cosimo,  31. 

Continuo,  133. 

Contrapuntal  music,  58,  59. 

Converse,  Frederick,  256. 

Coranto,  61,  85,  93. 


Cornelius,  Peter,  292. 

Couperin,  Charles,  91. 

Couperin,  Frangoise  ("the 
Great"),  90,  91;  his  "or- 
dres,"  92,  93;  his  descrip- 
tive music,  93,  108;  his  alle- 
gories and  ballets,  94;  "Les 
Folies  Franjaises,"  94;  126, 
130,  140,  151. 

Couperin,  Louis,  91. 

Courante,  85,  93. 

Cramer,  his  sonatas,  127;  136, 
142;  "La  Parodie,"  142; 
"L'Ultima,"  142;  "Les 
Suivantes,"  142;  "Le  Re- 
tour  a  Londres,"  142;  "Fan- 
tasie  capricieuse,"  142;  "Un 
Jour  de  Printemps,"  142; 
"Le  petit  Rien,"  142;  "Les 
Adieus  a  ses  Amis  de  Paris," 
142;  career  in  London,  143; 
J.  B.  Cramer  &  Co.,  143; 
Etudes,  144;  "Pianoforte 
School,"  144;  "School  of 
Velocity,"  144;  174,  185,  189, 
271,  280;  his  playing,  280; 
282,  292. 

Cristofori,  25,  29-30;  his  piano- 
forte described,  32,  2;^;  his 
stringing,  40;  compass  of  his 
pianoforte,  41;  compared 
with  a  Steinway,  47-49. 

Crosby  Brown  collection  of 
musical  instruments,  9,  31, 

47- 
Cui,  Cesar,  250. 
"Cushion  Dance,"  83. 
Czardas,  248. 


301 


Index 


Czerny,  edits  Scarlatti's  sona- 
tas, 98;  "  Outline  of  Musical 
History,"  173;  schools  of 
pianoforte  playing,  190;  on 
Beethoven's  playing,  273;  on 
Beethoven  and  Gelinek,  275, 
280;  on  Beethoven  and  Hum- 
mel, 283. 

Dagincourt,  91. 

Dampers,  23,  46,  174,  175. 

Dances,  at  the  French  court, 
83,  84,  87,  89. 

Dancing,  at  Italian  courts,  87; 
at  the  Council  of  Trent,  88; 
in  churches,  88;  Cardinal 
Richelieu's,  88;  Louis  XIV's, 
88;  Marguerite  of  Valois's, 
89.   _ 

Dandrieu,  91;  "Les  Tendres 
Reproches,"  92. 

Danish  composers,  235;  folk- 
tunes,  236. 

Dannreuther,  quoted,  138,  144, 
188,  220,  248. 

Danses  basses,  89. 

Daquin,  "Le  Coucou,"  92; 
"  L'Hirondelle,"  92. 

Debussy,  255. 

Dehn,  121. 

"Descant,"  64. 

Descriptive  music,  182. 

Diabelli,  variations   on    his 
waltz,  168,  171. 

Diana,  8. 

Diapason  normal,  41. 

"Diapasons,"  65. 

Diedrichstein,  Prince,  291. 


"Dieu  quel  mariage,"  59. 

"Discords,"  64. 

"Divisions,"  64. 

Dittersdorf,  his  symphonies, 
182;   on  Mozart,  269. 

Dohler,  189. 

Dolcimelo,  13. 

Domestic  music  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  100. 

Donizetti,  211. 

Don  Juan  of  Austria,  88. 

Dorn,  188. 

Dramma  per  musica,  its  in- 
fluence on  clavier  music,  96. 

Drayton,  Michael,  "Poly  Ol- 
bion,"  68. 

Drexel,  Joseph  W.,  72. 

Dreyschock,  210,  243,  288,  292. 

Due  corde,  175. 

Dulcimer,  12,  13,  26;  Heben- 
streit's,  27. 

Dumka,  244. 

"Dumps,"  64. 

Durante,  99. 

Duschek,  243. 

Dussek,  136,  140;  his  piano- 
forte compositions,  141;  So- 
nata in  F-sharp  minor,  141; 
"La  Consolation,"  141;  com- 
positions on  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, 141;  "Battaile  na- 
vale,"  141;  144,  186. 

Dvorak,  141,  243. 

Edward   VI,   King  of  Eng- 
land, 67. 
Egyptian  harps,  11. 
Ehlert,  221. 


302 


Index 


Elizabeth,  Queen,  music  in  her 

period,  63,  64;    plays  on  the 

virginal,  67,  70;    her  alleged 

virginal  book,  70, 
"Elverhoe,"  236. 
England's     Golden     Age     of 

Music,  63  et  seq. 
English  virginalists,  63  et  seq.; 

69  et  seq. 
English  music,  modern,  256. 
Epinette,  19. 
Equal  temperament,  119. 
Erard,  system  of  stringing,  43; 

action,  47;    piano  owned  by 

Beethoven,  174. 
Erasmus,  quoted,  65. 
Erbach,  102. 

Fackeltanz,  84. 

"Fain  would  I  wed,"  76. 

Farnaby,  Giles,  71,  81. 

Farnaby,  Richard,  71;  "Jog 
on,"  75;  "Bonny  Sweet  Rob- 
in," 75- 

Ferrari,  G.  G.,  174. 

Fibich,  243. 

Field,  John,  193;  character- 
ized by  Liszt,  194;  his  com- 
positions, 194;  201,  221,  271, 
282;    his  playing,   284,   287. 

Fingering,  35,  264,  267. 

Finnish  music,  236. 

Fitzvvilliam  Virginal  Book,  70 
et  seq. 

Flood,  Valentine,  77. 

Folksong  and  romanticism,  105, 
117;  idioms,  233,  234, 
235- 


Forkel,  133;    on  Bach's  finger- 
ing, 267. 
Form,   defined  and  described, 

150.  151- 

"  Fortune  my  Foe,"  77. 

Frames  of  pianofortes,  36,  37. 

Franck,  Cesar,  254;  "Varia- 
tions symphoniques,"  254; 
"Les  Djinns,"  254. 

Franck,  Melchior,  102. 

Frederick  the  Great,  130,  132. 

"Freischiitz,  Der,"  193. 

French  clavecinists,  90  et  seq. 

French  music  and  composers, 

253-255- 

Frescobaldi,  96;  "Capriccio," 
99;  "Canzone  in  sesto 
Tono,"  99;  "Canzona,"  99; 
Correnti,  99. 

"  Frets,"  64. 

Fries,  Count,  169. 

Frimmel,  Dr.  Theodor,  178. 

Friss,  248. 

Froberger,  102—105;  his  ad- 
ventures, 103,  104;  his  alle- 
mandes,  104;  182. 

Furiant,  244. 

Gabrieli,  Andrea,  58. 

Gade,  235;  his  compositions 
for  pianoforte,  237;  "Nach- 
klange  aus  Ossian,"  237; 
B-flat  symphony,  238;  pu- 
pil of  Berggreen,  236. 

Galliard,  61,  83,  84,  89. 

Galuppi,  99. 

"Gamut,"  64. 

Gavotte,  85,  89,  93. 


3°3 


Index 


Geigenwerk,  25. 

Gelinek,    275;     competes   with 

Beethoven,  276. 
German  Handel  Society,  116. 
Gibbons,  Christopher,  72,    81, 

103- 

Gibbons,  Orlando,  71,  72,  81. 

Giga  (and  Jig),  61,  93. 

Gittern,  68. 

Gladkowska,  Constantina,  220. 

Glazounow,  252. 

"Go  from  my  Window,"   76. 

"  Golden  Treasury  of  Pianoforte 
Music,"  99. 

Gourds  as  resonators,  9,  10. 

Gottschalk,  256. 

"Gradus  ad  Parnassum,"  282. 

Gravicembalo,  19. 

Greek  harp  and  lyres,  11. 

"Green  Sleeves,"  77. 

Grieg,  200,  235,  237;  self-esti- 
mate, 239,  240. 

Grove,  "Dictionary  of  Music 
and  Musicians,"  131,  138, 
188,  251,  264. 

Guicciardi,  Giulietta,  163,  164. 

Guido  d'Arezzo,  15. 

Gumpeltzhaimer,  102. 

Gypsy  musicians  in  Hungary, 
246;    "Gypsy  Epics,"  247. 

Gyrowetz,  243. 

Halle,  Sir  Charles,  192,  391. 
Hallen,  Andreas,  235,  240. 
Hammer-action,  33,  44,  45. 
Hammerclavier,  173. 
Handel,  admired  by  Scarlatti, 
97;    his  career,   100  et  seq.; 


borrowings  from  Kerl  and 
Muffat,  105;  candidate  as 
Buxtehude's  successor,  107; 
compared  with  Bach,  no 
et  seq.;  "Almira,"  in; 
"Rodrigo,"  in;  "Agrip- 
pina,"  112;  oratorios,  113; 
harpsichord  music,  115; 
"The  Harmonious  Black- 
smith," 115,  189;  Brahms's 
variations,  116;  other  com- 
positions, 116;  151,  168,  227; 
his  playing,  267. 

"Hanskin,"  74. 

"Harmonious  Blacksmith, 

The,"  115,  189. 

Harp,  5;    Egyptian,  11. 

Harpsichord,  18,  19;  defects  of, 
21;  improvements  of,  22; 
Ruckers,  maker  of,  22; 
touch  of,  268. 

Hartmann,  J.  P.  E.,  235, 
236. 

Hasler,  Hans  Leo,  102. 

Hawkins,  Isaac,  improves 
pianoforte,  39. 

Haydn,  Joseph,  42;  a  contin- 
uator,  122;  126;  his  clavier 
pieces,  127;  "Andante  va- 
rie,"  130;  Fantasia  in  C, 
130;  133;  "Genziger"  and 
"London"  sonatas,  138;  139; 
method  of  composing,  140; 
letters  of  Mrs.  Schroeter, 
143;  187,  188;  characterized, 
197;  on  Mozart,  227,  269; 
Croatian  melodies,  235. 

Hebenstreit,  27,  28. 


304 


Index 


Heller,  223,  224;  "Flower, 
Fruit,  and  Thorn  Pieces" 
("Nuits  blanches"),  223. 

Helmholtz,  28. 

Henry  VIH,  King  of  England, 
64,  65;  his  musical  educa- 
tion, 67. 

Henselt,  edits  Cramer's  Etudes, 
144;  224;  "If  I  were  a 
Bird,"  224;  Concerto  in  F 
minor,  224;  his  playing, 
284. 

Herz,  Henri,  209,  210,  211, 
288,  291. 

Hipkins,  "  History  of  the  Piano- 
forte," 31,  34;  on  metal 
frames,  38;  on  earliest  clav- 
ier compositions,  53. 

Hoffmann,  E.  T.  A.,  203. 

Hohenlohe,     Princess     Marie, 

175- 
Homer,  "Iliad,"  7;  "Odyssey," 

8,  II. 
"Homme     arme,      L',"      59, 

60. 
Hughes,  Rupert,  "The  Musical 

Guide,"  202. 
Hummel,     136;     Dannreuther 

on,  144;    his  "School,"  145; 

188,  189,  224,  270,  273,  279, 

280;     his   studies,    282;     his 

pianoforte  playing,  283. 
Huneker,    James,    on    Chopin, 

214,     215,     217;      "Chopin, 

the  Man  and    his    Music," 

217. 
Hungarian  music,  242,  245. 
Huss,  H.  H.,  257. 


"Iliad,"  7. 

Indy,  Vincent  d',  "Symphony 
on  a  Mountain  Air,"  255. 

Instrumentalists,  once  legal 
vagabonds,  54. 

Instrumental  music,  tardy  de- 
velopment of,  54,  60. 

Intrada,  85. 

Italian  composers,  for  clavier, 
95  et  seq.  ;  modern,   255. 

Jacks,  in  Harpsichords,  18, 

19,  64. 
Jean   Paul   Friedrich   Richter, 

183,  203,  224. 
Jig,  61. 

"Jog  on,  jog  on,"  75. 
"John,    come   kiss   me   now," 

76. 
Josquin  des  Pres,  67. 
Junker,    174;    on   Beethoven's 

playing,  274. 

Kalischer,  Dr.  Alfred,  164. 
Kalkbrenner,    210,    271,     287, 

288,  291. 
Kalliwoda,  243. 
Kerl,  105. 
Key-action,  33,  44. 
Keyboard,  14-16;   shifting,  23. 
Kissing,  in  Queen  Elizabeth's 

time,  65. 
Kjerulf,  23  s,  237. 
Knyvett,  C,  174. 
Kohler,  Louis,  224. 
Kotzwara,  "  Battle  of  Prague," 

74,  141- 
Kozeluch,  186. 


305 


Index 


Krehbiel,  H.  E.,  "How  to 
Listen  to  Music,"  24,  181, 
183,  246;  "Music  and  Man- 
ners in  the  Classical  Peri- 
od," 143,  154;  "Studies  in 
the  Wagnerian  Drama,"  151. 

Kuhlau,  191;  "Elverhoe," 
236. 

Kuhnau,  28,  107;  "Biblische 
Historien  "  (Bible  sonatas), 
107,  109,  182;  programme 
music,  108,  109,  126,  140. 

"Lady  Coventry's  Minuet," 
268. 

"La Mara"  (Fraulein  Lipsius), 
164. 

"Lady  Neville's  Virginal 
Book,"  71,  74,  77. 

Landini,  57. 

Lassu,  248. 

Lasso,  Orlando  di,  81. 

Lavignac,  "Music  and  Musi- 
cians," 213. 

Leicester,  Earl  of,  his  virginal 
book,  71. 

Lenz,  von,  on  Cramer's  play- 
ing, 281,  282;  on  Liszt,  286, 
289;  on  Henselt,  286;  on 
Chopin,  288;  onTausig,  293. 

Liadow,  "Tabatiere  a  Mu- 
sique,"  252. 

Liapounow,  252. 

Lightning,  in  music,  73. 

Lipsius,  Fraulein  ("La  Mara"), 
164. 

Liszt,  174,  175,  189,  192,  202, 
210,     216,     237,     241,     280; 


"Sonnets,"  221;  on  Cho- 
pin's sonatas,  222;  on  Field, 
194,  201;  Schubert's  Fan- 
tasia in  C,  198,  244;  arrange- 
ments of  Beethoven's  sym- 
phonies, 244;  orchestral 
style,  245;  sonata  in  B  minor, 
245;  "Consolations,"  245; 
"Harmonies  poetiques,"  245; 
"Dream  Nocturnes,"  245; 
"  Anneesde  Pelerinage,"  245; 
"Legendes,"  245;  Etudes, 
245;  "Hungarian  Rhapso- 
dies," 245-248;  "Des  Bo- 
hemiens,  etc.,"  246;  Con- 
certos, 248;  influence  on 
Russian  school,  249;  his 
playing,  288-290;  compared 
with  Thalberg,  292;  hears 
Tausig,  292. 

Locke,  Matthew,  72. 

Longo,  Alessandro,  99. 

"Lord  Willoughby's  Welcome 
Home,"  77. 

Louis  Ferdinand,  Prince  of 
Prussia,  141. 

Louis  XIV,  27,  85;  his  danc- 
ing lessons,  88;  dancing  at 
his  court,  90,  95;  his  clave- 
cin players,  91. 

Lute,  supplanted  by  the  clavier, 
102. 

Luther,  67;  and  church  music, 
106. 

Lyre,  origin  of,  11. 

MacDowell,  Edward  A.,  256, 

257- 


306 


Index 


Machin,  Richard,  77. 

Maffei,  Scipione,  39,  33. 

Magyar  folkmusic,  245,  246. 

Maitland,  J.  A.  Fuller,  7a 

"Mall  Sims,"  76,  77. 

"Malt's  come  down,"  76. 

Marenzio,  81. 

Marguerite  of  Valois,  89. 

Marie  Antoinette,  141. 

Marius,  25,  29;  his  "Clavecin 
a  mallets,"  30. 

Marot,  tunes  to  his  psalms, 
106. 

Marschner,  his  romantic  ope- 
ras, 181;  "Templar  and  Jew- 
ess," 225. 

Martelli,  Signora  Ernesta,  31. 

Martini,  99. 

Martucci,  255. 

Mary  Stuart,  Queen  of  Scot- 
land, 67. 

Mason,  Professor,  10. 

Mason,  William,  80. 

Mattheson,  104,  107. 

"Means,"  64. 

Medici,  Catherine  de,  87;  in- 
troduces Italian  dances  in 
France,  89. 

Medici,  Prince  Ferdinando  dei, 

3°- 

Melvil,  Sir  James,  67. 

Mendelssohn,  "Variations  se- 
rieuses,"  168,  212;  a  roman- 
tic composer,  183,  188;  his 
works,  209-213;  Rubin- 
stein's estimate,  209;  "Songs 
without  Words,"  210,  211, 
212;    overture  to  "A  Mid- 


summer Night's  Dream," 
211,  286;  "Capriccio  in  F- 
sharp  minor,"  212;  "Rondo 
Capriccio,"  212;  Scherzo  in 
E  minor,  212;  Fantasia  in 
F  minor,  212;  Etude  in  F, 
212;  "Scherzo  capriccio," 
212;  "Allegro  brillante," 
212;  Concerto  in  G  minor, 
213;  and  Chopin,  214;  on 
Liszt's  arrangement  of  Mo- 
zart's G  minor  symphony, 
244;   his  playing,  284,  285. 

Mercury,  11. 

Merulo,  58. 

Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art 
in  New  York,  10,  31,  47. 

Meyerbeer,  188;  "Robert  le 
Diable,"  219. 

Midas,  Greek  virtuoso,  232. 

"Midsummer  Night's  Dream," 
286. 

"Minims,"  64. 

Minuet,  93. 

Monochord,  15,  18. 

Moussorgsky,  249,  250. 

"Moonlight"  sonata,  163,  165. 

Morley,  Thomas,  71. 

Moscheles,  188,  205,  213,  271; 
on  Beethoven's  playing,  274; 
Salaman  on  his  playing,  283; 
Beethoven  on  his  playing, 
283;    on  Chopin,  287. 

Moszkowski,  "Jeanne  d'Arc," 
242;  "Boabdil,"  242;  "Aus 
alien  Herren  Landen,"  242; 
"  Etincelles,"  242;  "Taran- 
telle,"  242. 


307 


Index 


Mozart,  42,  126,  133;  his  in- 
struments, 134;  praises 
Stein's  pianofortes,  135;  his 
composition,  135;  plays 
duets  with  J.  C.  Bach,  137; 
Sonata  in  C  minor,  138; 
competes  with  Clementi,  139; 
"Magic  Flute,"  139;  152, 
174,  179,  186,  188;  charac- 
terized, 197;  215;  Turkish 
march,  235;  G  minor  sym- 
phony, 244;  his  playing, 
268,  270,  276;  and  Clementi, 
268;  "Nozze  di  Figaro,"  276; 
278,  279;  Fantasia  in  F  mi- 
nor   279;  280,  282. 

Murer,  58. 

Muff  at,  G.  (father),  105. 

Muffat,  G.  (son),  105. 

"  Mulliner's  Virginal  Book,"  71. 

Munday,  71;  his  meteorological 
fantasia,  72,  142. 

National  Museum  (est  Buda- 
pest), 174. 

National  Schools  of  Music, 
229-257. 

National  Museum  in  Washing- 
ton, 10. 

Neefe,  272. 

Neupert,  237. 

Neville,  Lady,  her  virginal 
book,  71. 

Nevin,  Ethelbert,  257. 

Newmarch,  Mrs.,  251. 

New  Romanticists,  226. 

New  York  Public  Library, 
manuscripts  in,  72. 


New  York,  a  season's  piano- 
forte music,  230. 

Niemann,  Dr.  Walter,  "Die 
Musik  Scandinaviens,"  236; 
on  Grieg,  239. 

N-kungo,  an  African  instru- 
ment, 9,  II. 

Nordraak,  235,  237. 

Norman,  Ludwig,  235,  240. 

North  German  organists,  105, 
117. 

Norwegian  composers,  235, 
237  et  seq. 

"Nozze  di  Figaro,"  276. 

"Oberon,"  212. 

"Odyssey,"  8. 

Olesen,  Ole,  240. 

"O  Mistress  mine,"  74. 

Onslow,  188. 

Opera,  invention  of,  62. 

Organ,  ancient,  14,  22;  music 
fo"")  5S»  56;  influences  cla- 
vier music,  loi;  Beethoven's 
playing   influenced   by,    272. 

Orgelschlager,  55. 

Oriental,  color  in  music,  235; 
music,  241,  246. 

Pachelbel,  "Musical Death 
Thoughts,"  107. 

"Packington's  Pound,"  76,  77. 

Paderewski  (dedication);  his 
Polish  music,  241;  "Fan- 
taisie  Polonaise,"  241;  so- 
nata and  variations,  242, 
252. 

Paganini,  168,  227. 


308 


Index 


Palestrina,  io6;   a  continuator, 

122. 

Pantaleon,  27. 

Paradies,  99,  126. 

Parker,  Horatio,  256. 

Partita,  61. 

"Parthenia,"  72,  78,  84. 

Pasquini,  96,  99. 

Passacaille,  94. 

Passepied,  89,  94. 

"Pastoral"  sonata,  163. 

"Pastoral"  symphony,   162, 
242. 

"Pathetique"    sonata,    165. 

Pauer,  E.,  "Old  English  Com- 
posers," 70,  82;  "Alte  Cla- 
viermusik,"  99. 

Paul,  Dr.  Oscar,  "Geschichte 
des  Claviers,"  83,  98. 

Paulmann  (or  Paumann),   57. 

Pavane,  83. 

"Peascod  Time,"  76. 

Pedals,  23,  37,  46,  47,  174,  175. 

Penna,  Lorenzo,  "Li  Primo 
Albori  musicali,"   265. 

Pepys,  69. 

Pesaro,  57. 

Petrarch,  57. 

Phillips,  P.,  72,  81. 

Pianoforte,  its  origin,  4  et  seq. ; 
its  name,  6;  defined,  6;  lack 
of  singing  quality  in,  24; 
Schroeter's  invention,  25,  27; 
etymology  of  name,  29; 
Cristofori's  invention,  29,  30; 
Marius's  invention,  30; 
Cristofori's  instrument  de- 
scribed, 32;  evolution  of,  34, 


49;  frame,  36-39;  upright 
patented,  39;  stringing,  39- 
44;  compass,  41,  42;  over- 
strung scale,  43;  hammer- 
action,  44,  45;  Cristofori's 
instrument  compared  with  a 
Steinway,  47-49;  its  univer- 
sality,     100;      Beethoven's, 

Pindar,  82,  232./ 

Pistoia,  53. 

Pixis,  291. 

"Plainsong,"  64. 

Playford,  "Introduction  to  the 
Skill  of  Musick,"  82,  83,  85. 

Pleyel,  197. 

Pohl,  131. 

Pole,  William,  metal  frames,  37. 

Polish  music  and  composers, 
240-243;  Chopin  and  Pad- 
erewski,  240-242. 

Polonaise,  84,  242. 

Ponsicchi,  Cesare,  32,  40. 

Porpora,  99. 

Pratorius,  Hieronymus,  102. 

Pratorius,  Michael,  60;  "Syn- 
tagma Musicum,"  60,  loi, 
266. 

"Preciosa,"  213. 

Price,  John,  77. 

"Pricksong,"  64,  67. 

Programme  music,  182  et  seq. 

Proposto,  57. 

Prosniz,  "Handbuch  der  Cla- 
vier Literatur,"  129;  on 
Mozart,  135;  on  Weber,  193. 

Psalterion,  13. 

Pudor,  on  Chopin,  216,  217. 


309 


Index 


Puliti,  32. 

Purcell,  81,  82;  use  of  thumb, 
266;  "Choice  Collection  of 
Lessons  for  Harpsichord," 
266. 

Pythagoras,  15. 

"Quodling's  Delight,"  76. 

Rachmaninow,  Prelxjde  in 
C-Sharp  Minoe,  252. 

Raff,  226;  "Hommage  au  Neo- 
romantisme,"  226;  245,  257. 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  166. 

Rameau,  90,  91,  92;  "Les  Rap- 
pel  des  Oiseaux,"  92;  "La 
Poule,"  92;  "Les  tendres 
Plaintes,"  92;  "L'figyp- 
tienne,"  92;  "La  Timide," 
92;  "Les  Soupirs,"  92;  "La 
Livri,"  92;  "Les  Cyclops," 
92;  108,  126,  130,  151. 

Rebikow,  252. 

Rasoumowsky,  235. 

Ravel,  255. 

Reformation,  influence  of,  106. 

Rellstab,  Ludwig,  165. 

"Rests,"  64. 

Richelieu,  Cardinal,  dances  a 
saraband,  88. 

Ries,  Ferdinand,  on  Beetho- 
ven's Sonata  Op.  31,  No.  2, 
161;  167,  174,  191,  271. 

Rigaudon,  89. 

Riggadoon,  85. 

Rimbault,  Dr.  Edw.,  "Collec- 
tion of  Specimens,"  etc., 
71,   72;    "The  Pianoforte," 


^y,  on  metal  frames,  38;  on 
strings,  40. 

Rimsky-Korsakow,  250;  pf. 
compositions,  252. 

"Robert  le  Diable,"  219. 

Rogers,  Dr.,  72. 

"  Rolandston,"  77. 

Roman  harps  and  lyres,  11. 

Romano,  Giulio,  81. 

Romanticism,  180,  et  seq.  ;  a 
definition,  183;  aided  by 
words  and  instruments,  195; 
its  elements,  196;  and  folk- 
songs, 234, 

Rore,  58. 

Rossini,  211. 

Rowe,  Walter,  77. 

Rowe,  Walter,  son  of  above,  77. 

"Rowland,"  76,  77. 

Rubinstein,  on  Rameau,  91; 
on  Couperin,  91;  on  Pas- 
quini,  96;  on  Scarlatti,  98; 
on  Beethoven's  music,  52, 
171;  on  Beethoven's  C-sharp 
minor  sonata,  165,  166;  on 
"Pathetique,"  166;  on  Bee- 
thoven's Op.  106,  178,  196; 
on  Mendelssohn,  209,  212; 
on  Chopin,  217,  245;  on 
himself,  249;  on  young  Rus- 
sian school,  249;  Concerto 
in  D-minor,  251;  "Staccato 
fitude,"  251;  "Study  on 
False  Notes,"  251;  Melodic 
in  F,  251;  "Kammenoi  Os- 
trow,"  251;  Sonata  for  pf. 
and  violin,  251;  his  playing, 
293.  294- 


Index 


Ruckers,  harpsichord  maker,  22. 
"Ruins  of  Athens,"  235. 
Runciman,  John  F.,  on  Chopin, 

216,  217. 
Ruskin,  definition  of  repose  in 

art,  150. 
Russian  music  and  composers, 

248-253. 
Rust,  Friedrich  Wilhelm,  137. 
Rust,  Dr.  Wilhelm,  137. 
Rust,  Wilhelm  Karl,  137. 

Saint-Saens,  245;  von  Bil- 
low on,  253;  "Caprice  on 
Russian  Airs,"  253;  "Afri- 
ca," 254;  "Caprice  Arabe," 
254;  Concerto  in  G  minor, 
254;   Symphony  in  C  minor, 

255- 

Salaman,  Charles,  his  recol- 
lections of  pianists,  280,  283, 
284,  285,  292. 

Salieri,  282. 

Salomon,  187. 

Santini,  Abbate,  collection  of 
Scarlatti's  works,  97. 

Santir,  Persian  dulcimer,  13. 

Saraband,  85,  89,  93. 

Sayn-Wittgenstein,       Princess, 

175- 

Scandinavian  composers,  235- 
240. 

Scarlatti,  Alessandro,  "Capric- 
cio,"  97. 

Scarlatti,  Domenico,  97;  "Nar- 
cissus," 97;  Santini's  collec- 
tion of  his  works,  97;  "Pas- 
torale,"    97;      "Capriccio,"   | 


97;  editions  of  his  works,  98; 
126,  129. 

Scharwenka,  Philipp,  243. 

Scharwenka,  Xaver,  243. 

Scheldt,  Samuel,  102. 

Scherzo,  influenced  by  Bee- 
thoven, 167;  221,  222. 

Schindler,  on  Beethoven's  pi- 
anoforte method,  162;  166; 
on  Beethoven's  playing,  274. 

Schroeter,  Christoph  Gottlieb, 
25,  29. 

Schroeter,  Johann  Samuel,  143. 

Schubert,  characterized,  197; 
his  compositions,  198  ei  seq.; 
Quartet  in  D  minor,  198, 
199;  Fantasia  in  C,  198,  199; 
Symphony  in  C,  198;  varia- 
tions, 198,  199;  "Impromp- 
tu" in  B-flat,  198;  Adonic 
metre  in  his  music,  198,  199; 
Quartet  in  A  major,  199; 
"Der  Tod  und  das  Mad- 
chen,"  199;  "Rosamunde," 
199;  "Wie  sich  die  Aug- 
lein,"  191;  "Die  Forelle," 
199;  "Der  Wanderer,"  199; 
"Trockene  Blumen,"  199; 
"Momens  musicals,"  199, 
201;  Impromptus,  199,  201; 
chamber  music,  199;  "Ron- 
deau brillant,"  200;  the  so- 
natas, 200;  202;  Chopin's 
dislike  of  his  music,  215; 
"Divertissement  a  la  Hon- 
groise,"  235. 

Schumann,  Clara  (Wieck),  205, 
207,  226,  285. 


311 


Index 


Schumann,  Robert,  "  Carna- 
val,"  94,  172,  204,  215; 
Etudes  symphoniques,"  168, 
205,  225;  a  romantic  com- 
poser, 183,  186,  203,  202- 
208;  programme  music,  203, 
204;  his  inspirations,  203;  his 
pianoforte  compositions,  204 
et  seq.;  Sonata  in  F-sharp 
minor,  205;  his  titles,  206; 
Fantasia  in  C,  207;  "Nacht- 
stiicke,"  208;  "Funeral  Fan- 
tasia," 208;  and  Weber,  210; 
and  Mendelssohn,  210;  and 
Gade,  238;  on  Chopin,  215; 
on  Chopin's  preludes,  220; 
"Noveletten,"  221;  on  Cho- 
pin's Waltz  in  A-flat,  221; 
on  Chopin's  Scherzos,  222; 
on  Chopin's  sonatas,  222;  on 
Brahms,  226;  his  theme  va- 
ried by  Brahms,  227;  his 
playing,  285. 

Schytte,  Ludwig,  237. 

"Scotch  snap,"  246. 

Scriabin,  252. 

Selden,  John,    "Table   Talk," 

83- 

"Sellinger's  Round,"  76. 

Seume,  "Die  Beterin,"  164. 

Seyfried,  Chevalier  von,  278. 

Sgambati,  255. 

Shakespeare,  the  music  of  his 
time,  64  et  seq.;  songs  from 
the  plays,  74,  75;  sonnet  to 
"the  dark  lady,"  20,  36; 
"The  Tempest,"  166. 

"Sharps,"  64. 


Shedlock,  J.  S.,  "The  Piano- 
forte Sonata,"  138;  on  Dus- 
sek,  142,    137. 

Sibelius,  236. 

Siciliano,  85. 

Silbermann,his  pianofortes,  13  2. 

Simonides,  82. 

Simpson,  Richard,  77. 

Sinding,  235. 

Sjogren,  236,  240. 

Skroup,  243. 

Smetana,  141,  243. 

Smithsonian  Institution,  9. 

Sodermann,  235,  240. 

Sonata,  60;  defined,  124;  evo- 
lution of,  124,  125  et  seq.; 
Beethoven's  influence  on, 
151  c^  seq. 

Sound-box,  evolution  of,  9. 

Spina,  publisher,  174. 

Spohr,  188. 

Spinet,  19;    defects  of,  21. 

Squarcialupi,  57. 

Squire,  W.  Barclay,  edits  vir- 
ginal music,  70. 

Stamitz,  243. 

Stanley,  John,  77. 

Stark,  L.,  199. 

Stcherbatchew,  252. 

Steibelt,  169;  routed  by  Beetho- 
ven, 277. 

Stein,  pianoforte  maker,  135, 
174. 

Steinway,  Henry  Engelhard,  44. 

Steinway  pianofortes,  ^^,  40; 
how  strung,  40,  41;  com- 
pared vi^ith  a  Cristofori  in- 
strument, 47-49. 


312 


Index 


Stenborg,  240. 

Stenhammar,  240,  326. 

Sterkel,  his  playing,  274. 

"Stops,"  64. 

Strauss,  Richard,  108,  142. 

Striggio,  Alessandro,  81. 

Stringed  instruments,  classifi- 
cation of,  5. 

Strings,  material,  22;  on  the 
Cristofori  pianoforte,  32; 
sizes  of,  32;  development  of, 
39-44;   laws  of  strings,  42. 

Suite,  61. 

Svendsen,  Johann,  235,  237. 

Swedish  music  and  composers, 
235;    opera,  240. 

Syrinx,  14. 

Tabouret,  "Orchesog- 

RAPHIE,"  88. 

Tallis  (or  Tally s),  71,  81. 

Tambourin,  89. 

Tannhauser,  227. 

Taubert,  188. 

Tausig,  288;  his  playing,  292, 
293;  edition  of  Scarlatti's 
sonatas,  98,  192. 

Taylor,  Franklin,  285. 

"Tell  me.  Daphne,"  76. 

"Tempest,  The,"  166. 

"Templar  and  Jewess,"  225. 

Thalberg,  189,  288,  290-292. 

Thayer,  Alexander  W.,  177. 

Timm,  Henry  C,  edits  Cra- 
mer's studies,  144. 

Tomaschek,  186;  on  Woelffl, 
279. 

Tomkins,  Thomas,  72. 


Tregian,  Francis,  70. 
Trench,  Archbishop,  181. 
Tschaikowsky,  250;  pianoforte 

compositions,  251;    concerto 

in  B-flat  minor,  251. 
"Turandot,"  235. 
Tutte  corde,  178. 

Ullmann,  291. 

Una  corda,  23,  175,  178. 

"Valkyria,"  ballet  by 
Hartmann,  237. 

Vanhal,  his  clavier  pieces,  127; 
186,  187,  243. 

Variations,  the  form,  168; 
Beethoven's  on  Diabelli's 
waltz,  168-173;  Mendels- 
sohn's, 168,  212;  Schubert's, 
198,  199;  Schumann's,  168, 
204,  225;  Brahms's,  168; 
Bach's  "Goldberg,"  173. 

Venice,  organists  of  St.  Mark's, 

56,  95- 
Viennese,  School  of  pianoforte 

playing,  270. 
"Viol-de-gamboys,"  68. 
Virginal,  19;   defects  of ,  21;  69, 

70;    collections  of  music  for, 

70.  7I; 
Virginalists,  technique,  263. 
"Virginalling,"  64. 
Virtuosi,   not  productive,   232; 

characterized,  261-263. 
Vivaldi,  118. 
Vogler,  Abbe,  188. 
Volta,  89. 
Von  Arnim,  Bettina,  153. 


313 


Index 


Von    Biilow,    edits  Cramer's 

Etudes,    144,    177,  178;     his 

playing,  293,  294;  on  Saint- 
Saens,  253. 

Wagner,  a  coNTimjATOR,  122; 
216,  227,  253. 

Walther  and  Streicher,  174. 

"  Walsingham,"  76. 

Waltz,  Diabelli's,  168,  171,  172, 
173;  Byron's  description  of, 
221. 

Weber,  Carl  Maria  von,  his 
romantic  operas,  181,  188; 
his  pianoforte  compositions, 
191  et  seq.;  "  Concertstiick," 
192,  193;  "Invitation  to  the 
Dance,"  192,  193;  Sonata  in 
E  minor,  193;  "Der  Frei- 
schiitz,"  193;  "Oberon," 
212;  "Preciosa,"  213,  235; 
"Turandot,"  235;  on  Geli- 
nek,  275;  Prosniz  on,  193; 
Bie  on,  193;  209,  211. 

Weber,  Dyonysius,  243. 


Weingartner,  his  transcription 
of  Weber's  "  Invitation,"  192. 

Weitzmann,  "  Geschichte  des 
Clavierspiels,"  99,  264;  on 
Beethoven's  sonatas,  155, 156. 

"Well  Tempered  Clavichord," 
Bach's,  114. 

Wetzlar,  Baroness,  291. 

Whiting,  Arthur,  his  pianoforte 
compositions,  257. 

"Why  ask  you,"  76. 

Wieck,  Clara  (Schumann),  205, 
207,  226,  285. 

Wieck,  Friedrich,  226. 

Wihtol,  252. 

Willaert,  58,  60. 

Woelffl,  278,  279,  291. 

Wood,  Anthony  a,  72. 

Wranitzky,  243. 

Yaquima  Indians,  use  bow 
as  musical  instrument,  9. 

ZiEGLER,  Henry,  49. 


9  5 


^  if 


314 


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